


Redeeming the Past

by writingfromdarkplaces



Category: NCIS
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Case Fic, F/M, Family, Flashbacks, Friendship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-10-15
Packaged: 2018-08-18 11:52:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 64,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8161190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingfromdarkplaces/pseuds/writingfromdarkplaces
Summary: After recovering from being shot, Gibbs pursues a cold case with an unlikely probie at his side.Sequel to Strange Connections.





	1. Confusing Decisions

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Strange Connections](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8128310) by [writingfromdarkplaces](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingfromdarkplaces/pseuds/writingfromdarkplaces). 



> I wanted to leave Strange Connections more or less fitting with canon and deliberately undecided about the fate of Ben, the kid from the flashbacks. In part because that allowed it to be whatever people wanted it to be, and in part because I wanted the investigation into Ben's fate a separate piece. I also have a couple of different ideas fighting to see which of them wins, so we'll see.
> 
> I'm not planning on adding in all of the flashbacks from the first story, though I will probably use the ones I feel are the most important to the plot. And there will be new ones, too.

* * *

Gibbs glared at the elevator doors as he rode it up. He should be on the stairs, but his knee still wouldn't take them, which just pissed him off. He didn't want to be slowed down. Weak. He needed to be better, to be past this.

He needed to be off the damn desk.

He shook his head. That would come. He'd get back to doing more than 'supervising' his team, but he wasn't needed for that with DiNozzo back. Gibbs needed a project of his own, and he already knew what it was going to be.

He left the elevator, going down to the office he needed. Ignoring anyone out front, he opened the door and walked in. 

Others would have complained. This one didn't.

Gibbs let the door close behind him, crossing the room. “I want to look into a cold case.”

Vance looked up from his desk with a frown. He set his pen down, sitting back in his chair. “I'm not sure I heard you right.”

Gibbs shrugged. He supposed that it wasn't like him to pull out many of those—he didn't _have_ cold cases. Not for long. He never stopped looking for his man, and he always found them in the end. Ari. Parsa. Sergei. Bell. Dearing. Budd. Those men had all been stopped, and plenty of others, too. This wouldn't be any different. If he'd been with NCIS when it happened, it wouldn't be cold now.

“I know I had you look into an old cold case before, but I didn't expect you to request one,” Vance said. He leaned forward, laced his fingers together, and put his hands on his desk. “I didn't think you had any, not now that Budd has been found and the Calling stopped.”

DiNozzo had done that. Gibbs was out with damned fruit baskets. He wouldn't complain about DiNozzo getting their man, but he would have rather been a part of that himself, especially in getting back the boy.

“Not one of mine,” Gibbs said, taking the seat across from the director. Damned knee was already hurting again. “Happened when I was stationed at Pendleton.”

Vance frowned. “You want to look into a case that happened when you were still a marine? Were you involved somehow?”

“Wasn't a suspect.”

“That wasn't what I asked,” Vance said, sounding a little frustrated. “What makes you want to do this? Why now? You have new direction on it?”

“Technology has changed,” Gibbs reminded him. He didn't actually know any more than he had before, but that was why he wanted the case. He wanted to start over from the beginning, find all the pieces. “Early nineties was before Simpson. Before DNA. We go back, we might find a killer. You need more reason than that?”

“NCIS has a cold case division,” Vance said. “They can look into this for you.”

Gibbs shook his head. When he'd been shot, he'd seen Kelly, and she'd told him he hadn't moved on. He had told her he would, but part of that meant atoning for all past wrongs, and his failure to help their neighbor was one of them. “I want to do this myself. You've got me benched, Leon. What does it matter if I look into a cold case?”

“I suppose you have a point,” Vance agreed. They both knew that DiNozzo could handle anything else that might come up in the meantime. “You want your whole team on this one?”

Gibbs doubted they wanted that. He was benched, but DiNozzo had led for months already while he was out. No point in keeping him from doing his job when Gibbs was looking into the past.

“Not necessary,” Gibbs said. He could work this alone if he had to, but he didn't think he would be. He knew his team. They wouldn't stay out of it.

“You will have to bring the forensics to Abby.”

“And I will probably ask Ducky to review the autopsy,” Gibbs agreed. “Not denying that, but DiNozzo is capable of leading the team if something fresh comes up and needs our attention. Don't need them for this.”

Vance nodded. “They're still your team. You have the resources you need. You just have to choose to use them.”

* * *

Jake checked his phone again. Still nothing from Ellie, and he would have thought she'd say something about how much longer she was going to be. Maybe she'd forgotten that they'd carpooled again. She could be distracted, working late, just not realizing how the time had gotten away from her.

He hated thinking that the truth was that she was probably avoiding him.

He put his phone back in his pocket, looking up at the building. He could go in and find her, but he didn't know how well that would go over. He wasn't really up to dealing with Tony and McGee, not when Tony seemed overly interested in the strain between him and Ellie, poking at the wound and making things worse.

Jake shook his head, checking his watch. He could give her a few more minutes before he either went in or texted her that he was leaving. He should go in, but a part of him would rather just go.

“You always wait in the parking lot like a stalker?”

Jake almost jumped, cursing himself for it as he did. He leaned against the car for a minute, trying to control his breathing. After he had calmed down enough, he turned to Gibbs, finding the older man giving him the look again. “Excuse me?”

Gibbs shrugged. “Perfectly good building up there. Plenty of people you could talk to if Bishop was busy. Hell, you could even sit at her desk if she wasn't there.”

“I'm pretty sure she's there,” Jake said, and he didn't know that he should talk to anyone else. His actual attempts to ingratiate himself with Ellie's colleagues had gone badly, and only Gibbs seemed to like him. Jake kind of figured that was because he was a source of possible intel, as he had been in the past. “You would know, though.”

“You and Bishop still having problems?”

Jake really didn't want to answer that. “Is there a reason you're here?”

“There a reason you're avoiding the question?” Gibbs countered. “I know, Malloy. Everyone knows.” 

“You don't—”

“The couples classes.”

Those words said it all and not nearly enough. Jake sighed. “I suppose we are, but I didn't think you wanted any part in discussing that. We've never done it before, and I don't see how it can help now. I don't know that anything can, not when I'm honest about it.”

Gibbs fixed him with a hard look, one that made Jake want to go find some place to hide like a misbehaving child. “That really what you think?”

“I gave you Korkmaz' computer. It didn't change anything,” Jake said, shaking his head. He'd tried. He'd bent the rules for Ellie, desperate to try and fix things, but she still seemed to resent his job and he didn't think she was telling him the truth about hers again. She still hadn't told him everything about the man she'd killed. “And stop glaring at me like it's my fault. Ellie's the one that's changed. I don't think she wants to fix it. I think she feels I hold her back, and maybe I do. I fell in love with a different woman. I hardly know the one she is now. NCIS has changed things.”

“You want to know what it's like for her?”

“Why are you asking me that? What _is_ this?” Jake asked, confused. He didn't understand why Gibbs was doing any of this. Ellie said he'd been different since he got shot, but Jake didn't know how true that was. He just knew that it wasn't like Gibbs to be involved in something like their marriage. “I know your team has some strange idea that we are... BFFs, I believe they call it, but you and I barely talk. We don't even play racquetball anymore. Why are you here?”

“I'm here because I want your help.”

Jake almost thought that he'd see Tony and McGee pop up somewhere to tell him this was all a prank. Only he didn't see Gibbs doing that. Jake couldn't figure out what was going on, and a part of him was worried. This couldn't be right. Gibbs wanted his help? Since when?

He swallowed, still trying to make sense of this. “From what little Ellie has told me of your recent cases, you don't need my help. None of what your team is investigating involves classified intel. And if you wanted legal help, there is a department for that at NCIS.”

“Want you to work a case with me.”

Jake stared at him. Where was the hidden camera? There had to be one. “You're joking, right? I'm not a field agent. I'm a lawyer. I'm not trained. I don't carry a gun. I have no experience—”

“Don't care. Need you with me on this,” Gibbs told him like it was a done deal and Jake had already agreed. “You can take it as an opportunity to do work that you can talk to Bishop about and a chance to understand what she does.”

“I don't understand,” Jake told him, still trying to make any sense of this. “You work cases with you team, and you don't interfere in their personal lives. Why are you doing this with me?”

“You're not part of my team.”

“That doesn't explain anything.”

“Be there tomorrow. And don't wear that suit, Probie.”

* * *

“Did you get a recall notice for something on my truck?”

Jake blinked, frowning as he looked over at her, and Ellie shrugged. She'd been trying to figure it out all morning, and she still didn't have a good answer for Jake's behavior. She didn't know why he'd wanted to carpool—her truck was working fine, they weren't running late, and yesterday had pretty much been a disaster. Things were still awkward between them, ever since she'd asked him for Korkmaz' computer. He'd given it to them, but that hadn't fixed the underlying tension between them.

She wasn't sure anything could.

“Jake?”

“No,” he answered, still distracted. “Your truck is fine, if twenty years old.”

She rolled her eyes. “It works just fine. I don't have any complaints, and if we want to start arguing about cars—”

“We don't,” Jake said, cutting her off as he turned into the parking lot for NCIS. “We don't have to have that conversation again.”

“You still haven't forgiven me for saying it was a midlife crisis purchase.”

“Because it wasn't,” Jake muttered, pulling into a parking space and shutting off the car. “One, I'm not that old. Two, I made a budget, kept to it, and saved up enough to buy the car. It wasn't impulsive or rash. It was done because I have always wanted a convertible.”

She bit her lip, not letting herself rattle off statistics on how many other car companies besides Mercedes-Benz made convertibles. Jake could have had one for half the price if that was all he wanted. She shook her head, getting out of the car and grabbing her bag.

Jake did the same on the other side, making her frown again. “I didn't know you were planning on coming in.”

Jake shrugged, and she wasn't sure if this was because of the near fight they'd had or if he was back in that mood that had started last night and lasted through the morning. Something was bothering him, but he hadn't said a word about what it was. She hadn't asked, either. She didn't figure he'd tell her. It probably violated national security to do it, and she wasn't going to push him to go against that again. She already knew she'd lose.

They walked inside in silence, taking the elevator up without a word. She tried to ignore the feeling she was getting, but it was hard. Something was about to go very wrong, wasn't it? 

She carried that thought with her as she went over to her desk, setting down her bag. She looked over at Tony and McGee, who were already watching them, but before either of them asked what Jake was doing there, Gibbs's voice came across the room.

“Over here, Malloy,” Gibbs said, holding up a file as he walked to the desk. He waited for Jake to cross over to him and handed the file to him. “Start reading.”

Jake frowned as he accepted the file. “You know, I'm not sure this is—”

“Read.”

Jake rolled his eyes, flipping the file open and starting to read through it. Ellie watched with a frown, knowing she wasn't the only one who was. They'd closed their case yesterday afternoon. They didn't have a new one yet. Or maybe they did, because Gibbs was having Jake look at it, but why? NCIS had lawyers of their own, and if it was about national security, Jake wasn't going to help.

“This is what you want my help with?” Jake asked in disbelief, eyes searching Gibbs' face. “I don't know the first thing about this sort of thing. I don't understand what you think I can—”

It was Gibbs' turn to frown. “You don't see it.”

“See what? A crime scene that turns my stomach and will give me nightmares?” Jake demanded. “I did see that, yes, but what point can you possibly have in showing me a woman who was beaten to death over twenty years ago?”

Gibbs frowned, taking the file back and flipping through it, shaking his head as he did. When he finished, he snapped it shut. “Come with me.”

Jake started to protest as Gibbs pulled him over to the elevator. When the doors opened, he pretty much dragged Jake inside.

“Okay,” McGee said after the doors closed, “that was weird.”

“Very.”

* * *

“Gibbs!” Abby said, knowing it was him as soon as the elevator beeped. It was so good to have him back again after he'd been shot. She'd been worried, and she hated worrying. She turned to greet him with a smile. Then she frowned. “And Jake, but no Bishop. Okay. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“They send you all the evidence on the Myerson case?” Gibbs asked, and she nodded. She'd had a box come in first thing that morning, and she'd been curious, but she didn't know what it was for.

“Right here,” she told him, gesturing toward it like Vanna White displaying a letter. “I just started looking through it and cataloging everything. There's not a lot here, and what there is might be contaminated. This your case? Does it have something to do with the NSA?”

“No,” Jake answered. “Which is why I should be going and—”

“Stay,” Gibbs ordered, and Jake frowned at him, worried but not making a run for it—not yet. Gibbs looked back at her. “Any photographs in there?”

“No,” she answered. “That part of the file didn't come to me, but I can pull up the digital copy if it's been entered into the system—”

“Got it,” Gibbs said, holding up a folder. “At least half of it's missing.”

Abby frowned. That was not good. Very not good. True, evidence could get lost in transit, and she had a feeling this case had bounced around a few places storage-wise, but this was very, very not good. “Like what?”

“Photos, for one thing,” Gibbs said, opening it up. Jake looked away, and Abby couldn't really blame him because that crime scene was awful. Myerson had been bludgeoned to death. Abby had the statue that had done it sitting in her box, and it was ugly. “There any evidence in there from her son?”

“Yes, actually,” Abby said, grabbing the list and holding it out for Gibbs to see. “They kept the clothes he had on that night as well as hers.”

“But no photographs?”

“You have the list right there,” Abby said, wondering if he should be using glasses to read it and that was why he was asking instead of actually reading what was in front of him.

Jake touched the edge of the photo from the file. “Gibbs, there are pictures right here. What more do you need?”

“Those pictures are of Hannah Myerson. There's none here of her son.”

Jake gagged, backing away from the table. “You're telling me that a kid was murdered then, too? I don't—”

“The boy lived,” Gibbs said, and Abby nodded. She would have had more evidence—a whole second box—if the boy had been murdered, too. She was glad he hadn't been, even if she didn't have any idea who he was. “Test everything you've got, Abs.”

“Of course,” Abby agreed. Still, she couldn't help it. “Gibbs, this investigation was done before you joined NCIS. Or NIS, as they were at the time. Why are you looking into it now?”

“Want answers.”

“Okay,” Abby said, nodding. She could understand that, but she couldn't help being very curious, too. “And Jake?”

Gibbs just shook his head, pulling the other man with him when he left the room.


	2. Suspicious Behavior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gibbs continues to shut his team out as he pursues his case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I kept meaning to include Palmer in the other stories I've done, but I've had a few too many people running around for that (I lose track of characters when I'm writing for too many) but this time I managed to get him in. Probably not very well, but he's here for once.
> 
> And I attempted to explain a few things to answer a question or two that was raised.

* * *

“Ah, Jethro. I wondered how long it would be before you graced us with your presence,” Ducky observed as he saw the other man enter the room. His companion was a surprise, but then Jakob was not unknown about the office, and it was rumored they were good friends despite the relatively short time of their acquaintance.

“Got anything for me, Duck?”

“Well, as much as I hate basing my findings on someone else's work, I find it difficult to dispute the conclusions reached by the medical examiner who performed this autopsy,” Ducky told him, looking at the file again. “Would you not agree, Mr. Palmer?”

“I'm not anything like the expert you are, Dr. Mallard,” Palmer began, and Ducky waved him on, not needing the disclaimer. He could speak to the findings instead. “Still, I agree. The blunt force trauma was definitely the cause of death. She had massive internal injuries, but this blow to the skull was likely the fatal one, as the original ME and Dr. Mallard agree.”

“Gibbs,” Jakob said, looking as though he felt rather ill. “I understand you're working a case, but I am not—”

“If you have to puke, do it in the other room. This is a sterile area,” Jethro said, and Jakob managed a weak glare.

“I don't understand why you're doing this,” Jakob said. “I admit—the NSA is talking about sending me overseas for some classified meeting and I haven't told Ellie about that, but I swear there is nothing else going on. You don't have to punish me, okay? I'm done.”

“You stay,” Jethro insisted. “And it isn't punishment.”

“Feels like it to me,” Jakob said. He grimaced. “No offense, Ducky. Palmer.”

“None taken, I assure you,” Ducky said. “Though I am, I fear, more curious about your presence here. And this case, Jethro. What is it that has driven you to it now after so many years?”

The other man looked at his companion, but Jakob only frowned, apparently still confused about Jethro's inclusion of him in this matter. Ducky would not be surprised to learn that there was some sort of underlying cause that Jethro refused to acknowledge but might even have something to do with the quick connection the two men had seemed to share prior to Jethro's shooting.

“It was time,” Jethro answered. “Past time.”

“Yes, I would say that Mrs. Myerson has waited long enough for justice,” Ducky agreed. He had seen the date on the paperwork, and it was shameful that this case had gone unsolved for this long. He supposed he had no idea how that had come to be, and he should not speculate on it, though had it been Jethro's case, it would not be in this state now.

Just how had Jethro come across it, anyhow?

“I'm afraid I can't give you much more than the report itself, which I assume you've already read,” Ducky began. “The autopsy was very straight-forward. Without having been able to examine the body for myself—”

“I know,” Jethro told him. “'Preciate you looking it.”

“I welcome the opportunity to help in any way I can,” Ducky said, aware of Palmer nodding beside him. He didn't doubt that anyone on the team would be less than eager to assist him, even if only out of the burning question of what this case meant to Jethro.

“I'll let you know,” Jethro said. He turned to Jakob. “Let's go.”

* * *

_“She's going to be walking any day now,” Shannon said, smiling down at Kelly. “Just can't stand to be left behind.”_

_“She's not behind anyone,” Gibbs muttered, defensive. Their daughter was just fine. Smart and beautiful like her mother, she was developing at the normal rate, or so the base doc said._

_Shannon shook her head, amused. “You are so defensive. Kelly is doing great. She's wonderful. She just has a friend who is older and more mobile, and she's not about to sit still when she could be doing what Ben's doing—walking.”_

_Gibbs shook his head. “She'll walk because she's just like you.”_

_“You're not still mad about me saying he was going to be our son-in-law, are you?” Shannon asked, rolling her eyes. “I was teasing. Both of them are too young to know anything yet. I just think that it's cute that she likes to tag after him, that's all.”_

_Gibbs watched the boy warily. He wasn't sure about this little interloper. He'd have to keep an eye on that kid._

* * *

“Are you ever going to tell me why I'm here?” Jake asked as the elevator doors closed behind them. He didn't know what to think of this, and he would really like Gibbs to explain himself. The opportunity to have something to talk about with Ellie was not enough. He couldn't justify his absence from his own responsibilities, not when he was completely out of his depth and useless on top of it. He hadn't done anything to help Gibbs with his case.

“Later.”

Jake stared at him. “Later? That's all you're going to give me? What does that even—”

“Later, Malloy,” Gibbs said as the doors opened on the other floor, letting them out not far from McGee's desk. He started across the room, giving Jake little option but to follow after him.

“Um, Boss,” McGee began, “if you have a case or perhaps even a covert operation—”

“Got it handled,” Gibbs told him, and Jake frowned as he caught up to him at his desk.

“How is this handled?” Jake asked, confused. “Ducky couldn't tell you anything, and Abby couldn't explain the missing pieces of the file. Why are you turning down McGee's help when as far as I can tell, I am of no use to you?”

Gibbs seemed amused by that. “Didn't say that.”

Jake frowned again. “I know you said you'd explain later, but I do have—”

“Car,” Gibbs said, and Jake sighed. He knew he'd have to get an answer out of Gibbs eventually, but he didn't think it was going to happen here. While Gibbs had asked Abby and Ducky about parts of this case, he didn't seem willing to discuss it with Tony, McGee, or Ellie, which left Jake in a very awkward position. She would ask him about it later, and he didn't know how to answer her because he didn't think she'd believe him if he told her that Gibbs wouldn't tell him.

“You want me to drive? I have no idea where we're going.”

“Tell you on the way,” Gibbs said, walking away from him. Jake frowned, shaking his head as he followed—again. He should stop, but he was curious and concerned. Gibbs had to have a reason for dragging him into this, and he did want to know what it was. Could this be some kind of... side effect of being shot?

He didn't know, but he might owe it to Gibbs to keep an eye on him.

“Jake,” Ellie said, moving to block him before he could leave with Gibbs. “What is going on?”

“Honestly, I don't know,” Jake told her. She gave him a look, and he shook his head, since he knew this would be her reaction. “I don't. Gibbs insisted on me coming today, but I still haven't found out why.”

“Now, Malloy,” Gibbs called from the elevator.

“Go on, Jake,” Tony said, and Ellie turned to him with a frown.

“Tony, we don't know—”

“We can find out,” Tony said, and Jake grimaced, trying to get away before anyone else objected or before Gibbs did leave him behind. He jogged the rest of the way to the other elevator, ducking in just in time.

Gibbs pushed the button, and Jake leaned back against the wall, taking a breath.

“Is this the way you go about every investigation or is this just because it's me?” Jake asked, regretting it as soon as the words were out of his mouth. He should not have said that. At all. “Um...”

“Usually start with the crime scene,” Gibbs answered. “Didn't figure you'd want me dragging you all the way to California.”

“What?”

“Murder happened when I was at Camp Pendleton,” Gibbs said as the elevator stopped again. “And not the one in Virginia.”

Jake grimaced as the doors opened. “Okay, I am glad you're not wanting me to go across the country for this. I'm still lost as to why I'm going and not someone from your team—isn't DiNozzo a better choice?—and also not sure where we'd be driving to if we don't have a crime scene—and oh, wow, what did I just say?”

“Relax, Malloy,” Gibbs said as he headed toward the outer doors. “We just need to have a little chat with a retired NIS agent.”

* * *

_“You should get paid for this,” Gibbs said, shaking his head. “Does that boy even know who his mother is?”_

_“Yes,” Shannon said, frustrated. “He does, and he knows it's not me. And I don't need to be paid. I like having Ben around. I've told you that before. Besides, Hannah couldn't afford it, and I am not going to force her into another compromising financial situation. If she can clear her debt, she can get back to what really matters—her son.”_

_Gibbs grunted. If her son mattered so damned much, she would be with him already. Then again, he was deployed more than he saw Kelly. Shannon would say he didn't have room to talk. Still, he didn't think much of their neighbor's priorities._

_Shannon wrapped her arms around him. “He's a sweet boy, and she's so young—she didn't know what she was getting herself into. Give her time. She'll figure it out.”_

_Gibbs shook his head. “Shouldn't take time to know what's right.”_

_Shannon snorted. “Like you and I knew everything when we first got married. Or when we had Kelly. We didn't, and we don't. We're still learning. We're making it work. Every parent has to do that. We're not that different from her.”_

_“No, we are.”_

* * *

“Why did you let them go?” Bishop asked as soon as the elevator doors had closed behind Jake and Gibbs, just what Tony was waiting for. “We want answers, don't we?”

“Yes, we do,” Tony agreed, rising from his desk. “And we're going to get them. Watch and learn, Probie.”

She frowned, but Tony was already on the move, heading toward the other elevator. McGee had already beaten them both there, since his desk was closer than theirs. He pushed the button, and they all got on after the doors opened.

“Do you know something about this, Tony?” Bishop asked as the elevator started down.

“Shouldn't we be asking you that?” McGee countered. “Gibbs brought your husband into this, after all.”

She winced. “Jake and I... I don't know anything more than you do. I overheard the same conversation. Jake didn't even say he was planning on coming in today until we got here. I'm not sure what is going on with him. Or Gibbs.”

“Well, Gibbs is behaving like Gibbs when someone got away from him,” Tony said. “His behavior today? Classic. Think about Ari, McGee. Oh, wait, you missed a lot of that. Well, we've got Ari. We have Sergei. We have Parsa. Daniel Budd. Many others. Gibbs gets very mad when he doesn't get his man. He even, shall we say, obsesses?”

“Only you killed Budd, and we don't have an open case,” Bishop said as the elevator stopped.

“Exactly,” Tony said, leaving the elevator and heading right into Abby's lab. She looked up from a table full of evidence bags and one very sad looking box. “What you got for us, Abs?”

She frowned. “Gibbs was just down here, and I haven't had a chance to do much yet. I've cataloged it, made sure everything is here that's supposed to be here—and according to my list, that's a yes, but according to Gibbs, that's a no.”

“Part of the case is missing?” McGee asked, frowning. “Wait, what case?”

Abby went to the computer, pulling up the file. She put it on the big screen on the wall. “Hannah Myerson, twenty-five. Murdered in her home at Camp Pendleton.”

“Over twenty years ago,” McGee said. “Why is Gibbs looking into this? It's from before he ever joined NCIS.”

Tony frowned, going closer to the screen. “Seems to me the boss was assigned to Camp Pendleton once.”

“He never mentioned this case before, though,” Bishop said, looking at Tony. “Did you know anything about it?”

“No, but then I never knew about Gibbs' first wife and his daughter until after he lost his memory,” Tony said. “Neither did Ducky, and he's worked with Gibbs longer than I have. Never heard of Hannah Myerson. Have no idea what she means to Gibbs.”

“Well, we know it wasn't her case that led Gibbs to join NCIS,” McGee said. “That was the death of his family. Still, he must have known about her death. Maybe they were neighbors.”

No one was stupid enough to think Gibbs was involved with her. Still, Tony frowned. “What else do we know about her besides where she lived and when she died?”

Abby shrugged. “Nothing.”

“What do you mean, nothing? How can we know nothing about a case that Gibbs is investigating?” McGee asked, getting a glare from Abby.

Tony reached over and gave him a smack on the back of the head. “Obviously Gibbs is keeping us out of the loop on this one. I don't know why. What I do know is that I don't like being kept out of the loop, not even by Gibbs. Look her up, McGee. I want to know everything we can about her.”

“You know that with Gibbs back—”

“I'm still senior agent after Gibbs,” Tony cut McGee off quickly. “All of us want to know why he's interested in this.”

“And why he involved Jake in it,” Bishop agreed, frowning. “I don't understand. Was Myerson involved in any kind of covert operations? What is the connection?”

Abby shrugged. “Gibbs didn't say. And believe me, I asked.”

* * *

_“Kid's staring at me.”_

_Shannon laughed. “Who wouldn't, Gibbs?”_

_He grunted, shaking his head at her. She could laugh all she wanted, but it wasn't funny to him. Ben's eyes hadn't left him since he came into the house, and it was getting to be damned creepy. Not even Kelly's attempts to play had gotten him to quit, even when she hit him with a toy dinosaur._

_“What's wrong with him?”_

_Shannon rolled her eyes. “Nothing is wrong with him. He's just not used to you again. You have been gone for months, or have you forgotten that?”_

_“He didn't do it the last time.”_

_“You didn't come home wounded the last time.”_

* * *

“This is it,” Malloy said, voice full of doubt as he parked the car in front of the lot. He leaned forward, taking in the state of the trailer and grimacing. Gibbs grunted, reaching for the door handle. “Are you sure this is where you want to be?”

“Find out in a minute,” Gibbs said, opening the door and getting out. He climbed up the stairs, fighting a grimace with each step. His knee was getting bad again, though he didn't feel like admitting that to anyone. He eyed the wind chime with disgust and then knocked, waiting for the man to show himself through the screen. “Miles Dunn?”

“That's me,” the older man said, leaning against his door frame and looking at Gibbs as he wiped a rag over the cup in his hands. “Something I can do for you?”

“Gibbs. NCIS,” he said, reaching into his pocket and showing the other man his credentials. “Want to talk to you about Hannah Myerson.”

Dunn grimaced. “Haven't heard that name in a while.”

Gibbs waved Malloy over, seeing the other man hesitate again. Normally that would have gotten an agent kicked off his case, but this wasn't just any case. He couldn't work it with just anyone. “Didn't forget it, though.”

Dunn snorted. “Damn sure I never forgot that one. I've never had a case go so wrong so fast. That family of hers decide to sue the navy or what?”

“Myerson was a marine,” Gibbs corrected. He hadn't gotten all of the records on Hannah's husband yet, but he would, even if he had to get someone to hack to do it.

“Like those snobs would care. That rich lawyer didn't give a damn about finding her killer. Just transferred the boy out of the hospital and had all of the family's things packed up and shipped off. Wouldn't even give me a name or a way to contact them when he did get out of the coma. Never even got to talk to my only witness. Was an obstruction of justice if I ever saw one.”

“Technically it wasn't,” Malloy said, stopping at the bottom of the stairs and eying the wood like he wasn't about to set foot on it even if Gibbs had made it up fine. “Arguably, he invoked the child's right to remain silent and he didn't have to offer you a legal reason for doing so.”

“You sound a bit like that bastard. You work with him?”

“No, but I do deal with the technicalities of the law on a daily basis,” Malloy said. Gibbs looked at him and he shrugged. “Yes, I know. My job sucks.”

Gibbs grunted, turning back to Dunn. “You ever find Ben Myerson later? Talk to him?”

Dunn shook his head. “Never did. Sure as hell wanted to, but even when I was still with the agency, I couldn't find him. Lawyer buried him good—assuming he did survive that coma. Gotta figure with a lawyer like that, her family had money.”

“She was broke.”

“I know that,” Dunn snapped. “She was a good thirty grand in debt. Ruled out robbery as a motive in my book, but without the boy, I had nothing else to go on. I still think that kid knew more about the death than he said.”

Gibbs frowned. “You just said you didn't talk to him.”

“Not after his mother was killed,” Dunn agreed. “Always figured he knew something about that neighbor of his that died.”

“Kristin Stone?” Gibbs asked. “She wasn't murdered. Didn't commit suicide, either.”

“ME didn't find anything to prove murder, but a young woman like that doesn't just fall over dead for no reason. Something made that happen. I couldn't prove it, but I knew,” Dunn insisted. “Just like I knew that kid knew something. He was in and out of their house all the time, and when I tried to ask him about it, he just about wet himself.”

Gibbs shook his head. “Ben wasn't involved in her death.”

Dunn put a hand on his hip. “So sure of that, are you? If he could tell you that, why are you here talking to me? Or is it because you don't believe his story so you want to confront him with me to get the truth?”

“What are you talking about?” Malloy asked, looking to Gibbs for an explanation.

“You know what I mean, Myerson. You just spouted the lawyer's party line, didn't you? You tell this agent the truth about what happened to your mom or not?”


	3. Roundabout Ways

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gibbs' team looks into the case behind his back while Jake finds out the real reason Gibbs involved him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the scenes that made this story get written is the one at the end, though it turned out differently than planned, as usual.
> 
> And there is a matter I don't intend to clarify for a while, so... Yes, leaving it at that...

* * *

“What?” Jake repeated, feeling sick as well as confused. Gibbs just seemed to be waiting, like he expected Jake to be able to answer Dunn's question, which he couldn't because he still didn't fully understand it. If what he was thinking was right, then—but no. They weren't actually saying that, were they? That had to be wrong.

“You know what I'm saying,” Dunn told him, opening the door and putting Gibbs on edge as he moved forward. “You must have lied to him to get him this far. What, were you the one that killed her? Damn. I always thought you were just a witness.”

“I didn't kill anyone. I have no idea what happened that night. I'm not involved in this,” Jake said, shaking his head. “You've made a mistake. I'm not sure if you see this missing witness of yours in everyone or if it's just because more than twenty years have passed, but I am not Myerson. My name is Malloy. Jake Malloy.”

Dunn turned to Gibbs with suspicion. “That true?”

“It's the name I met him with,” Gibbs answered, making Jake frown all over again. What kind of response was that? Of course it was his name. He worked for the NSA. He'd been through a background check, and Gibbs worked with Ellie. Why would he think Jake had lied about his name?

Dunn shook his head. “I actually thought you'd tracked him down. I never could, not with that lawyer blocking me at every turn. You're sure? I mean, those eyes. I swore I'd never forget them. The way that kid looked at me when I asked him about Stone—he's doing it right now.”

“I am not,” Jake said, though when he thought that through, he had no idea what look Dunn meant or if he might be unintentionally giving it.

“I suppose now you think I'm crazy. You'll dismiss everything I said,” Dunn muttered, staring at Jake in a way that made him very uncomfortable. “I still say that boy knew what happened to Kristin Stone.”

“You think that's the reason that his mother died.”

Dunn shrugged. “It always felt connected. We couldn't find any sign that Stone had died of anything other than natural causes, but she was too young to just keel over and die in her kitchen one day. Would have gone after the husband, but he was deployed. Neighbors said they were happy except—the redhead. She said she'd heard things about problems in the marriage. Wait a minute. Her name was Gibbs.”

Gibbs didn't answer that, but Jake had heard enough from Ellie and other sources to know about Gibbs' affection for redheaded women. All of his wives were redheads. Gibbs' wife? She'd been involved in this? Was Gibbs?

“So you thought Bruce Stone killed his wife?”

“He couldn't have. He shipped out over a week before she died. I asked around like we do when the death is unexplained. Got pointed to the kid, since he seemed to spend a lot of time there,” Dunn looked at Jake again. “Hannah Myerson worked two jobs, was almost never home, but I think you knew that.”

Gibbs ignored that, too. “What made you think Ben knew something?”

“I told you—he was in and out of that house a lot,” Dunn said. He looked at Jake again, studying him. “Asked the kid a few questions. General stuff. He was talkative at first. Helpful, smart. Might have been blind as a bat without the glasses, but he didn't miss much. Knew a lot about the kids on the base and the adults. Loner, outsider, that sort of thing. He saw plenty. Heard a bunch.”

Gibbs nodded, and Jake was almost convinced that he had known these people. That, in part, made sense for why Gibbs had pulled this case up, but it bothered him, too, knowing that. “What did he tell you about the Stones?”

“Kristin was a decent cook. Not as good as Shannon. Kid preferred his meals to come from her. His mother, apparently, was lousy. He said he'd been at the Stones more and more in the last few months, never as much as before then. Kid's father went MIA. Got the impression his mother couldn't handle him even when she wasn't working.”

“She lose either job before she died?”

“Came close,” Dunn said, leaning back against the trailer. “I figured it was only a matter of time from what the one boss said. She was distracted, screwing up...”

“He send her home when she shouldn't have been that night?”

Dunn frowned. “She worked her normal shift. Then she went home. Sometime in the night, someone broke in. Kid must have gotten woken up, interrupted the killer, and got hit. He was just lucky the killer figured he was dead with that one blow and never bothered to check. Weren't you?”

“I thought we established that wasn't me,” Jake said, and the other man snorted.

“Yeah, sure it wasn't. You think you'd really be here if it wasn't? Or was it just the similarities that was supposed to get me rattled? What, Gibbs, you figure this case goes cold so I'm a bad cop? Or that I did it? Let me guess—I saw Hannah when I was looking into Kristin's death, and I wanted her so much I broke in that night to do things to her but her kid interrupted me.”

“Did you?” Gibbs asked, and Dunn glared at him. Gibbs shrugged. “Just eliminating possibilities.”

“I don't even know why you're asking me. That kid has all the answers.” Dunn started down the stairs, going past Gibbs and right for Jake. “I don't know what game you're playing or how you got everyone fooled into thinking you're not that kid, but I don't buy it. Yeah, twenty years have gone by, but I haven't forgotten the way you looked at me then. The eyes, the glasses—”

“Lots of people wear glasses,” Jake objected. “And have the same color eyes. That can't possibly be your only basis for this. Gibbs, you apparently knew this kid, too. You had to—that's why you wanted me to do this? You were planning on using this apparent resemblance to unsettle people, is that it? You just wanted to use me.”

Gibbs grunted, moving over to back Dunn off. The retired agent watched him with a frown, looking like he wasn't sure what to do about any of this. 

“Wasn't about using you.”

Jake shook his head. “You expect me to believe that? You didn't even tell me you knew these people—you let me think it was a case you worked before, not someone you knew. And then I apparently look like this kid, and you never mentioned it, not in any of the time since we met?”

“The resemblance isn't that strong.”

“It's strong enough for him,” Jake said, gesturing to the man who had been about to attack him. “He's convinced I'm Myerson. Is that what you thought, too? Is that why you—I can't do this. I should just leave you here, let you find your own way back to NCIS—”

“Take me by my house first. You don't have to do anything else after that.”

* * *

_“Something bothering you, Ben?”_

_The boy jumped, and Gibbs frowned, not liking this. He hadn't seen Ben this spooked since the Halloween his squad showed up to surprise him, scaring both kids with their costumes. Shannon had not been amused, and his squadmates had a new appreciation for her after that conversation._

_“Ben?”_

_The boy wrapped his arms around himself, shaking his head. Gibbs knelt next to him, needing to look the kid in the eyes._

_“I told you that you can tell me anything.”_

_“Mrs. Stone died.”_

_“I know,” Gibbs said. He'd heard about it when he was gone, and he'd been glad when his deployment was over, wanting to be home with Shannon and Kelly after something like that. Kristin wasn't that much older than Shannon. She shouldn't be dead already. “That make you scared for your mom?”_

_Ben shook his head. “I... I see her. In my dreams. I see her dead in her kitchen.”_

_“You didn't find her, though. You didn't see her there,” Gibbs said. “Did you?”_

_Ben lowered his head. “When she didn't come to get me, I was glad. I wanted to be with Mrs. Gibbs, not her. I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have—but I didn't—she was nice, but she doesn't cook as good, and I don't like their house like this place. It's not—I'm sorry.”_

_Gibbs put his hands on the boy's shoulders. “You don't have to feel guilty about wanting to be here instead of there. You didn't kill her, Ben. Even if you had been there, you wouldn't have been able to help her.”_

_Ben started to cry, and Gibbs took him in his arms, holding him as he sobbed._

* * *

“All right, go back over it all again. What do we know?” Tony asked, looking at the screen.

“Hannah Myerson, age twenty-six. Married to a Corporal Benjamin Myerson. They had one son, also named Benjamin. Hannah was eighteen when they married. She had their son a few months later,” Tim began, giving Tony what little detail was in the official file. He still had a lot of digging to do for the rest, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to find it, not when a lot of it was probably still in paper files and not online anywhere. “Not much else in the file on her.”

“We'll ignore the fact that you haven't so much as googled her for now,” Tony said, tapping the remote against his chin. Tim glared at him. He was looking. It was just a slow process with records this old. “What do we know about the husband?”

“Myerson was Force Recon. Most of his file is still classified,” Bishop said. “He was stationed out of Camp Pendleton for most of his career. He was declared MIA, and his death was confirmed two days before hers. The officers sent to notify her were actually the ones who found her body.”

Tim flinched. About the only thing that would have been worse was if the kid had found her, but then he sort of had, hadn't he?

“The kid?”

“Ben was found alive, badly injured. He was still comatose when he was transferred out of the medical facility by his mother's family,” Bishop answered. “There's no record of him ever giving a statement about what happened that night.”

“What statements do we have?” Tony asked, still watching the screen.

“The NIS agent in charge, Miles Dunn, spoke to the neighbors—including one Shannon Gibbs—who all reported that they didn't hear or see anything in the house that night. The house was ransacked, and officially her death was considered part of a robbery gone bad,” Bishop added, shaking her head. “I know I'm still relatively new at this, but I don't see it. He was only an E-4, and he wasn't making that kind of money.”

“Not only that, but by all reports, the Myersons were drowning in debt,” Tim said, having flagged that in the file as something to double check, though he knew that would take time. “I'm still trying to get hold of the bank records, but these reports from the neighbors—more than one of them was surprised that the boy was at home that night. Hannah usually worked two jobs, and he was frequently at a neighbor's house because of it.”

“Let me guess,” Tony said. “Most often that neighbor went by the name of Gibbs.”

“There's also a mention of a Stone family that took care of the boy,” Bishop said, “but it looks like Kristin Stone, the wife, died nine months before Hannah Myerson. NIS investigated, but they ended up ruling it natural causes. Her husband Bruce... was deployed at the time of her death and Hannah Myerson's.”

“We think those deaths are connected?”

“How, Tony?” Tim asked, shaking his head. Why did Tony always have to jump to the conspiracy angle? It didn't have to be like that. “Stone died of natural causes months before Hannah—who most definitely did _not_ die of natural causes. She was bludgeoned to death.”

“Or Stone died of something that NIS didn't know to look for,” Tony said. “Something that wouldn't have been on a standard tox screen. Get that file to Ducky. Ask him to look it over. Something's not right there.”

“That's not the only thing that's not right,” Tim reminded him, though reluctantly because it would just make things worse. “Abby said Gibbs asked about the photos in the file.”

“And how there were none of Ben,” Bishop agreed. “He also never made a statement, and from the looks of it, NIS completely lost track of him after he was given to his mother's family. There's not even a record of if he survived or woke up—it's like no one tried to contact him.”

“The only witness?” Tony shook his head. “They had to have tried. Unless...”

“No, Tony. The NIS agent was not involved.”

“Two unexplained deaths,” Tony reminded him. “Bishop, was Dunn the investigator on the Stone case?”

“Yes,” she answered. “Does this mean we're going to go talk to him?”

Tony shook his head. “Twenty bucks says that was Gibbs' first stop.”

“No bet.”

* * *

_“Ben been having nightmares?”_

_Shannon shrugged. “I don't know. He's not here most nights. Hannah changed her work schedule so she could be home with him then, though what difference that makes, I don't know. So she's home when he's sleeping. She's missing every other part of his life.”_

_Gibbs almost laughed. “You tell her what you thought of that?”_

_“Oh, believe me, I did,” Shannon said, frustrated. “I've just about had it. She has had more chances than she deserved to get her act together. I don't care how much debt she has—some things are more important, and that boy of hers is one of them.”_

_Gibbs nodded. He agreed. “He tell you about Kristin?”_

_“No. What about Kristin? I know she was supposed to take care of him the day she died, but he was just quietly doing his homework when I stopped by to check on him. I thought it was weird that someone was home because Hannah should have been working—she was—and it turns out he was by himself, but he was doing his homework like the good kid he is.”_

_“He blames himself for not going over to her house. He said he didn't want to be with her, would rather be with you—”_

_“I would have gladly had him over if I wasn't busy that afternoon—”_

_“He thinks it's his fault she died. That if he'd been with her like he was supposed to be, she wouldn't be dead.”_

_Shannon swore. “Damn it. He's only a child. He didn't do anything wrong, and he couldn't have saved her.”_

_“I told him that, but I don't know that he believed me. Keep an eye on him while I'm gone.”_

_“Two,” Shannon promised, looking worried herself._

* * *

“There actually is a boat.”

Gibbs almost laughed. He didn't know why that would surprise Malloy, not when he'd loaned the man a tool, but then he'd never brought Malloy to his house or to the basement, no matter what his team thought. He could have, but it was almost bad enough he played racquetball with the man. Gibbs didn't need to add boat building to that.

“Not a boat yet,” Gibbs said, going over to the wall where the lunchbox of Kelly's things was. He took it down, carrying it back to the workbench. He set it on the counter, looking over at Malloy when he did. “Told you not to wear a suit.”

“And I'm not,” Malloy agreed, “At least not one of the ones I use for work.”

Gibbs grunted. “That pass for casual with you?”

“You've seen me in my yoga clothes and my racquetball ones,” Malloy reminded him. “I suppose those might not seem casual to you, and when we met I was still wearing a suit jacket, but we were going to meet my family. As I told Tony, they dress up to fly. Wearing jeans was a compromise.”

Gibbs eyed him. “Your family make you that nervous?”

“Always,” Malloy answered but did not elaborate. “What is it we came here for, Gibbs? You said you wanted to show me something, which is why I came inside, but I am really starting to think I should have gone with my first reaction and left you back at that trailer—”

“Wait,” Gibbs said, opening the tin and reaching into it. He took out Kelly's keepsakes, not allowing himself to be caught up in the nostalgia as he did. He found what he was looking for buried at the bottom and passed it over to Malloy.

“'My family,'” Malloy read off, frowning at Kelly's childish scrawl before turning the photograph over. He swallowed. “I don't know that I should be seeing this—”

“Shannon. Kelly. Ben.” Gibbs said, pointing out each of them in turn. “Ben wasn't ours, but he was with us enough to where it didn't matter.”

Malloy nodded, looking at the photograph with discomfort all over his face. “Okay. I get it. I see it—I mean, it's been years since anyone took down the photo albums and tortured us with them, but I think if people had put us in room together, they'd have assumed we were brothers, maybe even twins.”

Gibbs took the photo back, placing it inside with Kelly's other treasures.

“You were deployed when Myerson died?” Malloy asked, his voice quiet, too gentle for Gibbs' taste. He finished packing away Kelly's things, leaving the box closed on the bench.

“Yes.”

Malloy let out a breath. “And now you feel like you have to find Hannah's killer. Not for her, though. For him. That's why you wanted me along.”

Gibbs grunted. “Should go. Have work to do.”

Malloy shook his head. “You could have told me.”

“Just did,” Gibbs said. He'd kept his word. He'd said he'd tell Malloy later, and he had. He just didn't carry any photos around with him, and not the ones with Ben. He didn't even know where most of the stuff from Pendleton ended up after Shannon died.

“I realize that you don't exactly... talk,” Malloy began, “but that wasn't telling me, and I have to admit, I have my doubts that you would have if Dunn hadn't accused me of being Myerson and almost attacked me. I understand this isn't... easy for you, but I could have used a little warning.”

Gibbs shrugged. “No idea he'd react like that. Didn't even know that he'd recognize you. Ben was eight years old when his mother died. Lot has changed since then.”

“Only both you and Dunn connected me to Ben because of my eyes, right?” Malloy asked, turning back to the stairs. “It is something you could have mentioned before. Not saying I think you would have, but I am saying that it's not like you didn't know before you talked to Dunn.”

“You really would have been comfortable knowing that you share the same eyes as a kid I helped raise? One that could, in some ways, be argued to be my son?”

“I think it would have created more tension between me and your team, since whether they're aware of it or not, Tony and McGee look to you like a father and your approval comes after years of working with them whereas I managed to get accepted because of an accidental resemblance,” Malloy said as he started back up the stairs. “Do you want me to take you back to NCIS now?”

* * *

_“There are reason you won't even say hello to my father? He traveled a long way to be here,” Gibbs said, finally finding Ben after searching the whole damn house for him. “Pretty rude, don't you think?”_

_“He's your family,” Ben said, trying to disappear into his hidey-hole. “You don't want me there. I'm not family.”_

_Gibbs shook his head. “Doesn't matter if you're family or not. When we have guests, we say hello. Kelly won't stop talking about you to Dad, and he's starting to think you're her imaginary friend. Come say hello.”_

_Ben nodded, following after him. At least the kid was good at doing what he was told._

_“What is a grandfather?”_

_Gibbs stopped, looking back at him. “You don't know what that means?”_

_Ben shook his head. “Other people have them. I' heard about them. I don't have a grandfather or a grandpa or a grandma or grandmother. Just Mom and Dad.”_

_Gibbs snorted. Kid had a grandfather now. He just didn't realize it yet, but as soon as he interacted with Jackson, he'd know exactly what it meant._

* * *

Ellie bit into a doughnut, knowing she was going to make a mess and mini powdered ones were not the best of choices for just about anything, especially at work. Still, she needed something, since the sound of McGee typing across the room was starting to get to her. She didn't want it to, and she also knew that it wasn't really about him making noise. This was about Gibbs.

And Jake.

She still didn't understand what Gibbs was doing bringing Jake into this. She knew that Tony and McGee called them BFFs, but that wasn't really accurate, and it wasn't enough to explain this. This case of Gibbs was deeply personal, since it involved people from his past, including the wife and daughter he'd kept secret from many of his colleagues, so why was Jake involved?

Why was Gibbs looping Jake in and keeping all of them out?

And why was it taking so long for her request to have Myerson's record declassified to be answered? They should have it by now.

The elevator dinged as she finished her doughnut, and she reached for another only to have Jake's voice stop her.

“Bad day?”

She looked up at him. “Maybe you should tell me. You apparently know more about this case than the rest of us do.”

“That so, McGee?” Gibbs asked, and Tim stilled, grimacing. He shot a look to Tony, who shrugged. “Well? What did you find?”

“Ducky is looking into a possible connection between Myerson's death and that of Kristin Stone. He has the file down in his lab—maybe he's profiling us up a serial killer,” Tony said, smiling until Gibbs failed to smile back. “Sorry, Boss. Um... Assuming you went to see Dunn, we left him alone. Abby hasn't had anything to report. McGee's been grumbling about people and records and updating to modern technology all morning, and Bishop's stress eating again.”

“DiNozzo—”

“But I may have something for you,” Tony said with a grin, making Ellie frown. He hadn't told them about that. What was with everyone keeping secrets all of a sudden? “I didn't like how they hadn't gotten a statement before Ben was released from the hospital.”

“Wasn't released,” Gibbs corrected. “Was transferred.”

“Yes, but by whom?” Tony asked. “Did I get you there? Of course not. You're too good for that. Plus you probably already know there was a lawyer acting on behalf of Hannah Myerson's family. Interestingly enough, Hannah listed her maiden name on her wedding certificate as Myerson.”

Ellie frowned, though in part that was because Jake had just taken one of her doughnuts. “You're not suggesting that she was related to her husband, were you?”

“Getting ahead of me there, Bish. Wait and let the master explain,” Tony told her, making McGee roll his eyes. “I spoke to one of the nurses who worked at the hospital when Ben was taken there. She was still alive and kicking and remembered the case very well. She couldn't say much about it, but she never forgot the name of that lawyer. And it is impressive. Or it's meant to be. We're talking about Bradford Cabot Billington the third.”

McGee snorted. “I'd say you were kidding, but I know you're not. I have a listing here for a Bradford Cabot Billington the third. He died last year of a heart attack, but before that, he was employed by the law firm Browne, Britteridge, and Billington.”

Jake choked on his doughnut. “He was with the Three Bs?”

“The what?” McGee asked. “There's no record here of a—”

“Kind of obvious why they'd give it that nickname, McAlphabet,” Tony said. “What makes me curious is the fact that Jake here recognized it off the bat. You've been holding out on us, Malloy. Just how much money do you have stashed away?”

“I'm not rich, Tony.”

“McGee, don't even think about looking into our financial records,” Ellie warned, shaking her head. Her coworkers did not need to see that. “It... That's private.”

Jake sighed. “Since you're not likely to let this go... yes, my family has money. Old money, even. I don't. Ellie and I have... a comfortable financial situation. Nothing more. I never worked for the Three Bs, was never asked to, and I couldn't tell you who all is on their client list, though I believe it is a large part of my grandparents' social circle as they all trace their origins back to the founding of the colonies.”

“Old money. And power,” Gibbs said, looking at Jake, who nodded unhappily.

Tony shrugged. “Just makes my theory more credible.”

“You think Myerson's family disowned her and that's why she used her husband's name when she married him,” Ellie said. “Because he was just a marine and that baby was coming before they got married.”

“The scandal,” Tony said with a mock shudder. “It also explains why they'd be in the kind of debt McGee's been hunting. If they were spending like she was a trust fund baby and that went away with her marriage...”

“So, what, are we thinking that her own family had her killed?”


	4. Legal and Forensic Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few potential snags arise along with a couple of complications.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't go into how an unexpected visit can throw off an entire day, but I know it made this chapter much harder to write than it should have been since I knew everything I was putting in it and had a scene mostly done last night. And I dislike the ending, but it needed to be like that.
> 
> Also, I tried my best to get the legalities right, and the case McGee mentions is real and apparently was used for several pieces of fiction as well.

* * *

“And, what, had the son killed, too?” Jake asked, shaking his head. “Just what kind of monsters do you think rich people are, anyway, Tim? Old money doesn't make you evil. It does make you set in your ways and intolerant in many of those ways, but every class has its rotten apples. Rich people aren't alone in that. I think you may be influenced by media bias—people love to see the fairy tale shattered and the little guy win against the odds, but being born with a silver spoon doesn't even guarantee that you'll grow up arrogant and entitled. It definitely doesn't make you a killer, no more than anyone else.”

“Man has a point,” Tony agreed, giving McGee a glare of his own as he wadded up a paper and threw it at Tim's head. “Not everyone who grows up with money—or the illusion of it—is a bad person.”

“I didn't say they were,” Tim protested, shaking his head and wishing he'd realized that both of them were going to take that question the wrong way and get defensive. “I asked because I think that's a bit of a stretch. You could make a case for them interfering in the investigation, maybe obstruction for keeping us from getting a statement from Ben—”

“Or they exercised his right to remain silent, which _is_ legal,” Jake said. He shook his head as everyone looked at him. “I said the same thing to Dunn. Technically, it's not obstruction. It's a fine line, but it's their legal right.”

“Ben's legal right,” Bishop corrected. “And no one actually asked him about it.”

“The age of criminal responsibility varies from state to state,” Jake disagreed. “The average is seven. Ben was eight. He was entitled to invoke that right of silence, and most people would have argued that he wasn't even capable of making that decision for himself—which would be why they'd expect a lawyer or guardian to be present for any questions. If the lawyer chose not to let him speak—”

“Okay, that just made my head hurt,” Tony said, and Tim knew it wasn't just him. “So, he's legally responsible but he isn't?”

“At the risk of making it worse—common law holds that from age seven to fourteen, children cannot be presumed to bear responsibility but can be held responsible,” Jake answered. He caught Gibbs' look and shrugged. “There _is_ a juvenile court system for a reason. Kids who commit crimes still have to answer for them—just not necessarily in the same way an adult would.”

“Yeah,” Tim agreed, since that last part did make sense to everyone, “but no one thought Ben was responsible for killing his mother.”

Jake snorted. “Dunn did. He seemed to believe that not only was Ben involved in his mother's death he was somehow responsible for Kristin Smith's death as well.”

“That was not anywhere in his notes on the case,” Bishop said, frowning. “I thought everyone believed Ben was another victim of the killer.”

Gibbs grunted. “Man got bitter over the case. It happens.”

“So years go by without being able to interview his only witness and he snaps, starts thinking that the boy did it?” Tim winced. That was not good.

“Or Dunn was deflecting,” Tony said, jumping back in with his pet theory again. “Blame it all on the kid that disappeared because he was the one who actually did it. He met Myerson while investigating Stone's death and became obsessed with her. He goes back to her house thinking he can have his way, gets interrupted by the kid, and when he couldn't get close enough to silence him, he decided to discredit him.”

“Gibbs actually asked him if he did it,” Jake said. “Not all of it—not the discrediting part—but the rest, yes.”

“Malloy—”

“You never said I wasn't supposed to say anything,” Jake protested. “Part of the whole point was so that I could have something to talk about, remember? Or was that just an excuse? I suppose it was, since you did have ulterior motives.”

Gibbs shook his head. Tony looked at him and then back at Jake. “So, how did our boy Dunn react? Did he get very angry?”

“Yes,” Jake answered. “And... he deflected. He tried to say it was Ben. Well... more or less.”

“We don't actually believe that it was Ben, though,” Bishop said. “And not just because Gibbs knew him—we know how much force it would take to deliver the blows to Myerson's body to cause her wounds, and a child is not capable of that much force.”

Jake looked at Bishop. “It is highly disturbing that you know that.”

“You're investigating this case, too, aren't you?” Bishop asked, sounding pretty upset by that. Tim had to admit it was weird—none of them knew why Jake was involved in any of this. “And I haven't forgotten how excited you got about the game of Clue at the airport.”

Jake shook his head. “This is different.”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course it is. You have a double standard for everything, don't you?”

“Excuse me?”

“Gibbs!” Abby called, rushing out of the elevator as soon as the doors opened. Tim figured they were lucky—that was about to get ugly—but then they weren't, because whatever Abby was about to tell Gibbs did not look good.

“What you got, Abs?”

“A problem,” she said. “Maybe even a big one.”

* * *

_“What are you doing up?”_

_Ben jumped, sniffling as he faced Gibbs. “Nothing.”_

_“This doesn't look like nothing,” Gibbs said. Tears were never nothing, and when a kid cried, he wanted to know the cause. He wanted to make it stop. “What's going on? Why aren't you in bed?”_

_Ben bit his lip. “You're going to be mad.”_

_Gibbs frowned. “Why would I be mad?”_

_“Mom was when I told her,” Ben said. “She said... She told me I was being...”_

_“What, a crybaby?” Gibbs asked, watching the boy wince. He didn't think that about the kid at all, but someone must have. That someone was probably his mother, but it didn't just have to be her. The kids were pretty damn mean just because Ben had glasses. “You're not anything of the sort. Tell me what's bothering you.”_

_“I can't sleep,” Ben said. He pulled on his pajama leg. “They're too short. All night long they bug me. Mom says I'm being ridiculous because she just bought them—”_

_“You've had them for over a year,” Gibbs said. Even he knew that, and he wasn't here that often. “These cuffs digging into your legs when you're trying to sleep?”_

_Ben nodded. “Tried cutting them but the scissors didn't work.”_

_With those safety scissors, Gibbs didn't doubt it. “I'm going to get you a big shirt, and then I want you to try and sleep again.”_

_“Okay.”_

* * *

“What's the problem?” Gibbs demanded. “You think your evidence is contaminated?”

Abby shook her head. “Gibbs, I would already have seen that. We wouldn't even be having this conversation because I would have told you earlier that we couldn't use it. They might not have known about DNA back then, but they did know about fingerprints. They didn't touch the statue. If there's an issue, it will be with the clothes. There will be transfer, but it might not be our killer's. It could be her son's, could be the notifying officers. I don't know yet.”

Gibbs nodded. “Then why are you here?”

“I already told you the good news—almost all of the evidence was well-preserved. I've got lots to test. Lots and lots of shiny little tests this case never saw before. Major Mass Spec is working overtime and then some,”Abby said, shaking her head as she reached for the remote. She picked it up and turned on the screen, putting the evidence on the screen. 

“Abby—”

“I know, Gibbs,” she said, holding up a hand. “I'm getting to the not so good news.”

“I thought that was the part about the transfer on the clothes,” McGee said. “There's more than that? Because... that seems bad enough.” 

She shrugged. It could be. It might not be. They weren't going to know for a while yet. She had to wait on Major Mass Spec and more samples. “I went through both sets of clothes, checking for trace and transfer, and that is where we run into problems.”

She put the photograph of the boy's pajamas on the screen, waiting.

“You want us to guess what's wrong?” McGee asked, still frowning. “I'm not so sure we have time for games, even if this _is_ a cold case.”

Abby shook her head, turning to Gibbs. She wanted to be sure she wasn't wrong about what she was thinking, but if no one else noticed what she did, maybe she was making too much of it. Though... she wasn't sure she _could_ be making too much of it.

“The top doesn't match the bottom,” Jake said, and she turned back to look at him, surprised to have him be the first to pick up on it. Maybe there was a reason Gibbs had him along after all. He shrugged. “Sorry. Not an expert.” 

“Way to jump to conclusions there, honorary Probie,” Tony said, shaking his head. “They're the same thing.”

“Actually, they're not,” Abby said. “The pattern is close— _very_ close—but where the top is full of little cars, the bottoms are little trucks.”

Tony eyed Jake warily. “How'd you pick up on that, anyway? It's almost impossible to tell from here, and I know I have better vision than you.”

Jake grimaced. “I don't know. I just... There were stories—almost legends—repeated with horrifying frequency—told about my refusal to wear pajamas that did not match. I don't know why they're so popular with my family. They're not that funny. Just... humiliating.”

“I don't see why you're so embarrassed,” Bishop told him, amused. “I always thought those stories were kind of adorable.”

“So do I,” Abby agreed. Jake got red, lowering his head like he wanted somewhere to hide. Poor thing. That actually _was_ adorable.

Tony shook his head. “You have issues.”

“They're not the same set,” Gibbs said, his eyes on the screen. “The cars were new. The trucks weren't. They were too short, and Ben didn't want to wear them. Shannon bought him the cars because his mother kept sending him in the trucks, but he had trouble sleeping in the ones that didn't fit.”

“That, too,” Abby agreed. “The pants are size six-seven. The shirt is an eight-ten. They definitely didn't match.”

McGee frowned. “Abby, I'm not sure what that tells us other than that he was in mismatched clothes, which isn't a crime.”

“It is if he went to bed in a matched set,” Gibbs said, and Abby nodded.

“The amount of blood and spatter on his pajama top fits with him taking a blow to the head from the same statue that bludgeoned his mom to death, but there is _no_ splatter on his pajama pants. Zip. Nada. Zilch. Those were _not_ the pajama pants he was wearing when he was hit.”

“Wait,” Bishop said. “With the blood from his head wound, shouldn't there be some blood on the pants, too? Or is that something we can't tell because there's no photographs showing where he was lying when he was found?”

“If he was lying so the blood flowed away from him, not necessarily, but if he wasn't, then yes, there should have been,” Abby answered, “and since there is some blood on his shirt, it wasn't flowing away from him the entire time.”

“He was moved,” Gibbs said, frowning. “And changed.”

“Possibly more than once,” Tony said. “I mean, they were officers sent to give a death notification, not a crime scene unit. You have to figure there's a bunch of contamination there. Still... it's a little weird if not down right creepy that someone changed the pajama bottoms.”

“Could be they wanted to stage something—remember, it went down as a robbery even though Myerson was badly in debt,” McGee said. “Maybe they wanted to make the scene look more like a break in, cover up the fact that Myerson knew her killer.”

“Is it possible that Ben changed the pajamas himself?” Bishop asked, twisting her lip. “I mean, if he woke up for a bit, was confused by the blow to the head, maybe he... thought he'd wet the bed and changed.”

“Bit of a stretch, but not impossible. There was at least one real life case where a man who'd been hit several times with an axe, suffered head injuries and blood loss, but still got up with his alarm, went downstairs and started making himself coffee before he finally died by the front door after going for the paper,” McGee said. “So... yeah, Ben could have, but I don't know that we could assume that's what happened.”

“The pajamas could have been changed after the fact by the lawyer,” Tony said. “Not sure what he gains by that, but since he messed with so much else, why not that, too?”

“That assumes he had access to the evidence,” Jake said. “And judging from Dunn's behavior when we spoke to him, I don't think that could have happened. He wouldn't have let anyone near it. He was so antagonistic I wouldn't be surprised to see assault charges against him.”

“Interesting,” Tony said. “Could it be another sign that our NIS friend is corrupt. McGee—”

“Though,” Jake began, frowning. “If the point of Billington's visit was to keep the family's involvement quiet, he wouldn't have pressed formal charges.”

“He still could have threatened them,” McGee said, “but there wouldn't be a record of that.”

“And Billington is dead so we can't ask him,” Tony said, giving Gibbs a look. “We could—”

“Go home.”

Everyone frowned. “Gibbs—”

“You need to find Abby a couple of officers,” Gibbs told them. “Could make you do it tonight if you want.”

Tony grimaced. “That could go either way, Boss. Some marines wouldn't want us to wait, but others... They'd be pissed, getting a visit this late at night.”

“So do it in the morning,” Gibbs said, gathering his keys and phone.

“You're not actually going home, though, are you?” Jake asked. “Because without Billington to confirm if he made any kind of threat against Dunn—”

“Go home, Malloy.”

* * *

_“I don't want a bath.”_

_“You're covered in dirt,” Shannon said, giving Gibbs a glare over the boy's head. He shrugged. What was a football game if no one got dirty? He was just glad Ben had actually tried to play instead of hiding behind the excuse of his glasses again. “You are having bath. You'll have to wear your pajamas while I wash up your clothes. You are a mess, little man.”_

_“So is Kelly. And she actually scored,” Ben grumbled. Kelly smirked at him, sticking out her tongue, and he did the same._

_Gibbs laughed. “You came close enough.”_

_“For the wrong team. I'm no good at sports.” Ben folded his arms over his chest. “No bath.”_

_“Can always use the hose,” Gibbs told him, and the kid's eyes widened in horror._

* * *

_Something caught his foot, yanking him on his ankle, and he fell, hitting the floor hard. He moaned, trying to get up, but the hand dragged him back. The shadow got on him, pushing him down, and he couldn't breathe. A hand covered his mouth. He tried to push the shadow off, but it wouldn't go._

_He was trapped. He couldn't get up._

_He hurt._

_He felt broken._

_“Get off of him.” She screamed it, pulling on the shadow. It held, but she tugged again and again, not stopping. “Let go. Let him go. Get off of my baby.”_

_The shadow snarled in rage, knocking her away. She hit the wall, landing with a bang. He watched her rise, stumbling back toward them._

_“I won't... Won't let... you hurt... him...” She lunged for the shadow, and it smacked her away again. This time it followed, and she disappeared into the darkness except for her screams that did not seem to end._

“Jake. Jake, wake up,” Ellie said, shaking him. “Jake, please. Please wake up. Okay, that's it. Look at me. That's it. You know where you are?”

He knew. At least—he thought he did. She was here, and that made here their bedroom. Everything was where it should be—the bed and the stands and the lamps. The pictures. Even as he shook, unable to keep himself still, he could see all of that.

“Yes,” Jake said, swallowing and trying to sit up. He felt sick, and he swore he could still hear the woman's screams.

“You were screaming,” Ellie said, watching him with concern. “What happened? Are you—”

“Just a bad dream,” he said, leaning over the side of the bed, putting his head in his hands. He took several deep breaths, needing to calm himself and wanting to shut out the sound that would not quit, the one making him want to puke.

Ellie touched his back, and he jumped, almost hitting the wall when he stumbled away from the bed. She frowned, and he leaned against the wall, sucking in air and wishing he could make this stop. “Jake, I... I don't think I've ever seen you have a nightmare like this. Not when the NSA uncovered that terrorist threat that had us all terrified, not when Parsa broke into our house, not when I admitted I shot someone... Not ever. What was that dream?”

“I... I think I... How do you do it? Look at that stuff and not get involved? I've seen reports go by my desk hundreds of times, but I never... Even at the airport, when we looked at that man in the bathroom, it wasn't like this,” Jake said, going back to the bed and sitting down.

“Like what?”

Jake swallowed. “I... It... I lived it. I think. Hannah Myerson's murder. I didn't—it was like I was Ben. Only it wasn't. It didn't fit with what everyone said happened. I didn't walk in on him killing my mother. He—I don't even know if it was a he—I just saw a shadow. I just know it attacked me, and she tried to get it off. It... She wouldn't stop screaming.”

Ellie winced. She reached over to touch his face. “I'm sorry. I've—I've done some analysis, and I've created playbooks, and that even sort of put me in the mindset of a criminal, but I never experienced transference like that.”

“I—I think I'm going to shower,” Jake said, getting back up. He needed to wash it off, get rid of it. He had to make the dream go away. He couldn't think of any other way. He went into the bathroom, stripping off his shirt and dropping it on the floor. He turned on the water, letting it heat up as he finished getting undressed.

He went under the water and let it run over him, closing his eyes. The shower spray didn't drown out the sounds, and Jake felt like he would never stop hearing her voice.

The water got cold, and Jake didn't feel any different. No cleaner, no freer. He turned off the shower, stepping out and taking the towel off the rack. He pulled it around him, not sure he felt like drying off.

“I didn't know what else to do, so I made coffee,” Ellie said from the doorway. “Is there anything else I can—”

“I don't think so,” Jake told her. “I don't know that anything can make this better.”

She nodded, coming over toward him. “You're shivering. You know, the towel works best if you actually use it to dry yourself off.”

He tried to smile at that. “Yeah, I guess.”

She took another one off the rack, drying off his arms first, then his back. “Were you planning on working with Gibbs again today? Because I'm starting to think maybe you shouldn't.”

“I... I had only taken the one personal day. I didn't know what Gibbs wanted, but I knew I had to find out and—I don't know, Ellie. If I don't finish this, won't that make it worse?” Jake asked, shaking his head. He didn't know that he could do anything _but_ finish it. He had to silence that voice, and he had to prove that he was—no. Dunn was wrong, that was ridiculous, and Jake wasn't even going there. “I think I'm going to have to have... closure.”

“I understand that, but you've never needed my help to dry off after a shower before, either.”

“Technically there was that one time that—”

“That was sex, and it was different,” Ellie told him. She reached up and touched his face. “I don't know why Gibbs dragged you into this, but I'm worried about you.”

“So am I,” Jake admitted, wrapping his arms around her and clinging to the familiar.

* * *

_“Dad, can we adopt Ben?”_

_Gibbs choked on his coffee, looking down at his daughter. “Excuse me?”_

_She shrugged. “He's here all the time anyway, and he's like a brother. He's lonely. Can't we just adopt him and keep him forever? He'd be happier here. I know it.”_

_“It doesn't work like that, Kelly. You know that.”_

_She sighed. “His father is never home, and his mom works too much. Isn't it better if he's with us? We actually care about him.”_

_“I know we do,” Gibbs told her. Sometimes he thought the same thing himself, but he knew that Hannah wouldn't ever give up her son, even if she should have years ago. “We get to have him with us, though. That's enough.”_

_“Not really.”_

_And Gibbs couldn't argue with her about that._

* * *

“Way to show up late to the party, Bish,” Tony said, noting her arrival and checking the clock. Yes, she was definitely behind schedule, and considering the kind of morning that Gibbs would have expected them to have, she wasn't just a few minutes late. More like hours in Gibbs time.

“It was... kind of a rough morning,” Bishop said, putting her stuff down at her desk. She didn't take her seat, though. Instead, she pushed her husband over to the chair. “Gibbs in already?”

“Think he went down with Ducky,” McGee answered. “I just got off the phone with the widow of one of our officers. She's willing to help, but unfortunately, she didn't have anything of her husband's to let us use for comparison, so we're going to have to see if one of their kids is as willing to cooperate.”

“And our other officer is local, which may help but may not,” Tony said. “Seems he's got a bit of dementia, so he can't be counted on for much of a statement or for permission for DNA. Still trying to track down a legal representative, aren't we, McGee?”

“I told you I just got off the phone—”

“If he's in long term care, the nursing home has to know who has power of attorney for him, and you can ask them to put you in contact with them,” Jake said, pulling on his hooded sweatshirt. He didn't look much like the guy who'd been in here yesterday or anyone connected to old money. Interesting.

Tony nodded. “Got a number. Got no answer, but I have a number.”

Bishop reached into her snack drawer. “Have we made any progress in locating Ben? I know we don't have her maiden name or access to the lawyer's client records—”

“Which you won't get,” Jake said, and she gave him a look, but he just shrugged.

“—but Ben was given a social security number, wasn't he? If someone is using that number now, we should be able to track it,” Bishop said. “Right?”

McGee nodded. “You are right, and I did. Or I tried to. It would seem that Billington didn't just move Ben from the hospital. It looks like he arranged for him to be adopted.”

“What?”

Tony frowned. “You did not mention that before, McSecretive. You're sure about that? I mean, if the mom was disowned, I guess it kind of makes sense that the kid might be quietly shuffled off, but damn, that is cold.”

“Adoption is one of only two ways that a social security number would be changed,” Jake said. “I guess it makes sense if they truly wanted the boy lost... He could have a completely different name.”

“You okay over there, Jake?” McGee asked. “You look kind of... off.”

“I'm fine.”

“Wait,” Tony said. “If we have only two reasons why social security numbers change, then why don't we have Myerson's maiden name?”

“That you might have to blame on the lawyer,” Jake said. “If they were willing to give up the boy for adoption, chances are they altered records after Hannah was disowned as well.”

“At least my dad never tried to take my name,” Tony muttered. “What about you, Jake? They make you lose more than a trust fund?”

“Tony, no one ever said Jake got disowned.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “You are still so naïve, Timmy.”

“I am not—”

“Where is Gibbs?” Vance asked, and Tony almost flinched when he looked up to see the director on the stairs. That was not good. None of them had noticed, and just how long had he been there? Did he know about this whole honorary probie thing they had going on?

“With Ducky. We think,” McGee asked. “What is it? Do we have another case?”

“Not quite.” Vance looked straight at Tony, and Tony had a very, _very_ bad feeling about this. “Former NIS Agent Miles Dunn was just found dead. He was murdered.”


	5. Legal Complexities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gibbs' reaction to Dunn's death puzzles the team, and he pursues another line of inquiry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was up late trying to finish this chapter, and eventually I conceded defeat. The scene came out like crap. Falling asleep, I knew what I had to do, so I went back, wrote a new part, split a scene into two parts, and then added something that ended up getting moved to the end, as the tension had kind of died for a bit and I wanted it back.
> 
> So there is some again, and this got long even without getting to Jake unwillingly introducing Gibbs to his family.

* * *

“Murdered?” Tim repeated, rising from his desk. Oh, this was not good. Not at all. He looked back at the elevator doors with a frown. He didn't know if Gibbs was actually down with Ducky, but they'd all assumed he'd gone to see Dunn last night. He was probably the last one there before his killer, and that was not good for anyone.

“This an NCIS case or are we going to have to let another agency handle it?” Tony asked. “Technically, he should be one of ours, but then I think you know that Gibbs went to see him yesterday, so... hey, Jake, where do we stand, legally speaking?”

“Um, Tony, I was there when Gibbs talked to Dunn,” Jake said. “I don't think I should offer an opinion on the matter.”

Vance frowned. “You were with Gibbs, Malloy? There a national security aspect to this case that Gibbs failed to mention?”

“No.”

Vance didn't seem to believe that. “I think I would like to hear your opinion of the situation. You're used to treading the murky waters of jurisdiction. What would you recommend?”

“That you let an outside agency handle it.”

“Traitor,” Tony said, and Jake frowned at him. “Come on. You're not NCIS, but you're still selling us out.”

“No, I am doing what is commonly known as covering your ass,” Jake countered. “Gibbs spoke to him yesterday. So did I. And we believe he was planning on talking to Dunn again today. That puts this investigation an awkward position. Given Gibbs' deeply personal connection to this case, I wouldn't do anything to risk the case being dismissed on some kind of technicality, and while I don't believe Gibbs killed Dunn, him being allowed to investigate the man's murder would not go over well. Having an outside agency handle it keeps NCIS free of accusations of a cover up.”

“Agreed,” Vance said, “which is why the FBI will handle this.”

“Handle what?” Gibbs asked, coming around the corner to his desk. “Leon, you giving away my case now? What the hell for?”

“Dunn's dead, Boss. He was murdered,” Tim told him, wincing as Gibbs' eyes turned toward him. He cleared his throat. “Did you go and see him again last night?”

Gibbs frowned. “He was alive when I saw him last.”

“I'm letting the FBI take point on this one, Gibbs,” Vance told him. “I'll make sure they keep us in the loop, and if we get Fornell, he'll probably just work with your team on it, but I want you to stay out of it. That going to be a problem?”

“No,” Gibbs answered, shocking everyone.

“Okay,” Tony said. “Who are you and what have you done with Gibbs? Did you get amnesia again? Are we going to go through the mustache and the Mexico thing again? I know Franks is dead, but that doesn't mean—”

“DiNozzo,” Gibbs said. “Go.”

“Yes, Boss. Heading to Dunn's house now,” Tony said. “Uh... Assuming you're okay with us leaving, Director?”

Vance nodded. “Keep me informed.”

Bishop started to pick up her gear and then stopped, looking back at her husband. She bit her lip. “Maybe I should stay here. I don't know that we'd all be needed, especially if we might not be allowed to help on the case directly and—”

“Ellie, you can go. You don't have to stay behind for me,” Jake said, rising. Then he frowned. “If you were actually saying that because you were worried and—”

“I was worried,” Ellie said, putting her hands on his face. “I think I'd always worry. Just... If anything is—”

“I'll be fine, and I don't intend on doing anything dangerous. You're the one going to a crime scene. You be careful,” Jake said, touching her cheek. She hugged him tight, and Tony made a face, shaking his head as he headed for the door. Tim was just glad they weren't repeating the almost fight from yesterday.

“I love you,” Bishop told him as she stepped back, giving his hand a final squeeze before joining Tim on the way to the elevator.

“Something going on, Bishop?”

She glanced back toward her desk, frowning. “I hope not.”

* * *

_“What are you doing?”_

_Gibbs set down his tool, trying to keep himself calm. Kelly had just asked that not five minutes ago, and now it was Ben. Kids asking him that stupid, annoying question when the damned car refused to work and the sun was beating down on him worse than in the desert._

_“The car's overheating. I'm trying to make that stop.”_

_“Oh.”_

_“Shannon said she was setting up the pool—”_

_“That's for little kids,” Ben said, scrunching up his nose. “The water barely covers me. I don't want to go in the pool. Can I stay with you?”_

_“Ben—”_

_“If I could fix cars, I could make Mom's work so she's not always angry about it breaking and losing money,” he said, leaning under the hood. “Then maybe she could be home more. Do you think if we had a better car it would help?”_

_Gibbs sighed. “It's not about the car.”_

_“Mom said she had one once that was a convertible. She put the top down and drove with the wind in her hair. She told me about it and put on the radio and danced with me. She... She hasn't been that happy in a long time.”_

_None of that was right, but it didn't surprise him much. “You can hand me my tools.”_

_“Okay,” Ben said with a smile. “Hey, do you think when I get older, I can have a convertible?”_

* * *

“Surprised you didn't ask.”

Jake tugged on his sweater, tempted to play with the zipper and trying not to look up to see if Vance was still watching them. He didn't think he wanted to know, but then he probably seemed too nervous anyway.

“Why would I ask? You didn't kill Dunn. I mean, if you really thought he had hurt Ben, you might have, but I didn't get the sense you felt Dunn had anything to do with Myerson's death. Even Abby's discovery of the boy's pajama pants being changed doesn't implicate him. He's one of a few that could have done it if they were switched _after_ they were found, but there's still a good chance that the killer or even Ben himself did it. Abby had no way of being sure.”

Gibbs grunted. “Why do you waste your time being a lawyer?”

“Because I don't have a death wish and I apparently can't deal with murder cases,” Jake said, getting a frown. “Don't ask. It's not important. I am still confused by you letting Dunn's case go. I wouldn't have thought you'd just walk away like that.”

“Not walking away. Whoever killed Myerson probably killed Dunn, so the answer can come from her or from him. Was planning on a road trip anyway.”

Jake winced. “Gibbs, that is probably a very bad idea. Leaving now makes you look suspicious if not guilty, and while having an outside agency investigate helps, it doesn't mean those allegations are just going to go away—”

“They can find me if they need to,” Gibbs said, gathering up his coffee and his keys. “Car, Malloy.”

“I never said I was driving for you again. I don't—”

“We're going to talk to those damned lawyers. You're coming with,” Gibbs said, heading toward the elevator. “Now.”

“I don't have to take orders from you—”

“No, you don't,” Gibbs agreed, giving Jake a long, hard look. “You going to come with or not?”

Jake grimaced. A part of him didn't want to, since he knew this was only going to get worse, but then Gibbs did seem to need him. He was a weird proxy for the boy Gibbs used to know, and the other man seemed to feel it necessary to include him every step of the investigation—or close enough. That made things difficult and complicated, and Jake did not want to start thinking that he could really be Ben. He did need this whole thing over with, same as Gibbs, and if it went faster if Jake helped, then he had to help.

“Fine. Let's go.”

* * *

_“Does a friend ever stop... being a friend?”_

_Gibbs looked over at Ben. Kid had to have some kind of insomnia or sleep disorder. He never seemed to fall asleep when normal people did. That probably had something to do with his mother, too. “You think Kelly isn't your friend anymore?”_

_“She does like that girl more than me.”_

_“Girls play in different ways than boys,” Gibbs said. “Not all the time, but remember what you said about playing princess. That's not your sort of game, now is it?”_

_“No.”_

_“That doesn't mean you stop doing stuff with Kelly. Or that she's stopped playing with you. She still likes having you around. She just doesn't share everything with you, and that's how it works with all friends.”_

_Ben frowned. “Friends aren't supposed to share everything?”_

_“Who told you that they did?”_

_The boy turned away, and Gibbs figured he was embarrassed. “No one.”_

* * *

“I knew the minute they said NIS I'd end up with you,” Fornell said as Tony approached. “Where's Gibbs?”

“The boss decided not to come,” Tony answered, getting a look from Fornell. Tony shrugged. He couldn't explain what was going on with Gibbs, had no idea what the man was thinking these days—opening cold cases, dragging Jake along for the ride, shutting them out—none of it made sense. Then again, it tied to Camp Pendleton. The past. Gibbs' first wife and his daughter. That always got the boss a little weird.

“Not like him.”

Tony nodded, adjusting his sunglasses. “I figure he has something up his sleeve. It's Gibbs, and Gibbs always does.”

“That he does,” Fornell said. He gestured to the trailer, waving McGee and Bishop on. “Go ahead and take your pictures. Ducky on his way?”

“I assume Vance sent him along. Dunn was one of ours.”

Fornell nodded. “Another reason why it's strange not to see Gibbs here. We didn't even get a fight over this one. Vance just asked if we would keep him in the loop. What the hell is going on, DiNutzo?”

Tony almost wished he could enjoy this. “Gibbs went to see Dunn yesterday. Twice, we think. He still hasn't confirmed the second visit. First time he had company. Not the second time.”

“What did Gibbs want to see him about?”

“An old cold case. Gibbs opened it up, has been looking into it. Dunn had lead back in the day, so Gibbs asked him about it,” Tony answered, keeping things nice and vague. He knew he was going to piss Fornell off, but that was okay. He didn't need to go sharing juicy details, either. If Gibbs wanted Fornell to know, he'd tell him. And if Fornell really wanted to know, he could ask Gibbs himself.

“Anything interesting happen during that first conversation?”

“No idea. I wasn't with him.”

Fornell frowned. “You weren't with him? You're his senior agent. Why weren't you with him?”

“Why weren't you with him, Fornell? He didn't ask you for help, either, did he? Could it be he has actually replaced you?”

“Stop trying to bait me, DiNozzo,” Fornell said, walking away and taking out his phone.

Tony shrugged, going inside the trailer. Soon as he was in the door, he regretted his choice. The whole thing stank. Dirty dishes and moldy food, plus a trash that hadn't been out in weeks. How did the man stand it?

Oh, there. Beer bottles. How very cliché, yet that answer made so much sense, didn't it? Tony shook his head as he made his way through the narrow hallway back to the bedroom. He walked in to join Bishop and McGee with the body.

“So this is Dunn.”

“What's left of him,” Bishop agreed with a grimace. “McGee did double-check his fingerprints. And we've got pictures of everything in here.”

“It looks like a botched attempt to make it look like a suicide,” McGee said. “We've got a gun next to the bed. Probably registered to Dunn, though I haven't bagged it yet. Left everything as is so you and Ducky could see it.”

“Thank you, McThoughtful,” Tony said. He looked around the room again. “Need to make sure that Ducky does a thorough tox screen. Place this messy, he should have heard his attacker coming unless he was comatose.”

“Windows are closed. No broken glass. The shot came from inside this room—probably from that doorway, actually,” Bishop said, pointing back to where they'd all come in. “I'll confirm that, too.”

Tony nodded, though he already felt like they were missing something.

* * *

_“You are six years old,” Shannon said, reaching over to confiscate the remote from Ben's hand. “What are you doing up this late?”_

_“Couldn't sleep.”_

_“So you're watching horror movies in the middle of the night?” Shannon demanded, just about to lose her temper. “Benjamin Myerson, so help me if you—”_

_“It's Perry Mason, not a horror movie,” the boy said, pointing to the screen. “What's a lawyer? Because he seems to do cool stuff. So does Paul Drake.”_

_Gibbs frowned. “How do you even understand that? This show is in black and white.”_

_Ben shrugged. “It's not like watching Mr. Ed, but since it was on afterward, I started watching it. They drive old cars—have you seen the convertible? Look at it. There's a black one, too, but it's kind of funny looking, at least in the back.”_

_Gibbs shook his head. “I think it makes sense now.”_

_“Boys and cars,” Shannon muttered. “At least we don't have to worry he's going to disappoint you by becoming a lawyer someday.”_

* * *

“Are you going to answer that?” Malloy asked as he changed lanes. “Because it is a little distracting, and with as many times as it's rang in the last ten minutes, I'm surprised you haven't thrown it out the window.”

Gibbs snorted, but he knew the other man was right. The phone was very likely to end up littering the interstate at this rate. He looked down at it, flipping it open. “What, Tobias?”

“You know it shouldn't take this long to get a hold of you,” Fornell said. “And I'm pretty sure I should be asking you 'what.' Since when do you avoid getting involved in a case involving one of your own?”

“Dunn wasn't mine,” Gibbs disagreed. He was not sure that man should ever have been an agent, and he definitely wouldn't have made it as one of his or one of Franks' probies.

“He was NIS.”

“Doesn't make him any good,” Gibbs said. “Man let a potential murder slide, lost a witness, and had a lawyer run circles around him. Surprised he managed to put anything together enough to get himself killed.”

“You sure his death is related to your case?”

Gibbs shrugged. “He died the day after I went to see him about it. And I don't believe in coincidences.”

“Neither do I. He say anything to you that suggested he knew who your killer was?”

“No.”

“No? The man gets killed by the same person responsible for your cold case and he doesn't so much as hint at who was behind it?”

Gibbs shook his head. “The closest he came to that was pointing the finger at the witness. Man was so damned incompetent I don't see why anyone bothered killing him.”

“Unless he knew more than he told you,” Malloy said, and Gibbs looked over at him. He shrugged. “It's almost impossible for me _not_ to hear what you're saying. Would you like me to put the top down so it's more difficult? Of course you won't be able to hear, either, so—”

“Just drive, Malloy,” Gibbs told him, ignoring Fornell's chuckle on the other end. “Dunn didn't know anything that should have gotten him killed.”

“Maybe not,” Fornell said. “Still doesn't explain why you've taken a step back and are letting your team handle this. Don't tell me you're staging an intervention for Malloy. Bishop's husband have a drinking problem, too?”

“I'm trying to find the witness.”

“There weren't any witnesses to Dunn's murder.”

“No, but there was one twenty years ago.”

* * *

_“What would you do if you were rich, Daddy?”_

_Gibbs snorted. He'd never wanted to be rich. “I work for a living, Kelly.”_

_“I know, but if you had all the money you needed, what would you do? Would you still be a marine, or would you be home all the time with us?”_

_“You don't think serving your country is important?” Ben asked, looking up from his homework. “It is, you know.”_

_She folded her arms over her chest. “I wasn't asking you. And the marines would never take you because of your eyes.”_

_Ben swallowed, watching her with pain all over his face. “Why would you say that? I thought we—you—you said you wouldn't ever make fun of my glasses.”_

_Kelly winced. “That wasn't what I said, Ben.”_

_“It's almost what it sounded like,” Gibbs told her. “It sounded pretty dam—darned mean, if you ask me. You two have a fight I didn't know about?”_

_Ben went back to his homework. “Told you—she likes Maddie better.”_

_Kelly rolled her eyes before turning back to him. “So, Daddy, what would you do if you had all the money you'd ever need?”_

* * *

“I wouldn't even expect to get past the secretary,” Malloy warned as he parked his car in front of the building. For a law firm, the place had the look of a damned modern art museum, weird angles and odd statues included.

“Thought they were old money,” Gibbs said, gesturing to the so-called art piece in front of him. He'd seen car wrecks that looked more artistic. “What the hell is that?”

“Old money that has passed to a new generation,” Malloy corrected. “And I think it's supposed to be a commentary on the fleeting nature of time.”

Gibbs looked at him. “That a joke?”

“No, that is Cabot's so-called appreciation for art,” Malloy told him, opening his door. “The remodel must have been his idea. His grandfather would never have allowed this. He was all about patriarchal values. The office practically looked like one of those old English gentlemen's clubs. Still, just because he's in charge now doesn't mean he's going to answer any of your questions. He'll probably be more annoying to deal with than his predecessors.”

Gibbs got out, shutting his door behind him. “This guy steal your lunch money when you were a kid or something?”

“Or something,” Malloy muttered, walking up to the entrance. Gibbs followed him inside, jarred by the transition. The inside was still the gentlemen's club, with marble floors and carved wood paneling, etched glass and classic art on the walls.

Malloy went up to the desk, and the receptionist frowned at him, pert nose curling in disgust. She pushed a button on her phone, adjusting her headset. “Can I help you?”

“Is Cabot in?”

“Cabot?” She repeated, staring at him. “Mr. Billington only sees people by appointment.”

“I am certain Cabot will make an exception,” Malloy told her, and she snorted, looking like she wanted to wanted to be doing her nails while she looked down on him. Gibbs could have made him change into the suit he'd worn yesterday, but he hadn't wanted to waste the time, not when they already had a drive ahead of them.

Gibbs took out his badge and put it in front of her face.

“Even with that, you should have called and made an appointment,” she said. “You can come back when you have one.”

“We only need a few minutes of Cabot's time—”

“No,” she said, lifting her nose haughtily. “What you should do is leave before I am forced to call security.”

Gibbs shook his head, eying the ones by the elevator. He wasn't afraid of them, but he would make their day miserable if she didn't get out of his way soon. He wanted answers, and no lawyer was going to stop him from getting them.

Malloy reached over to stop her hand from going to the button again. “Cabot will make the exception. Ask Irene—it is still Irene, isn't it? Cabot inherited her with the firm, didn't he?—to tell him that... that someone with Naval Oceanic is here.”

She stared at him. “You're lying. Naval Oceanic is—”

“Try using the name Malloy,” Gibbs said. “Since that's what his is.”

She swallowed, shrinking down in her seat as she pressed a button. “Irene, there's a Mr. Malloy here with Naval Oceanic. He doesn't have an appointment, but—no, I know that we always see—no, I understand. He just—No, I'm sending him up now.”

Gibbs didn't wait for her to tell him, heading over to the elevator. He waited for it to close behind Malloy before he spoke. “There a reason you never said your family owned Naval Oceanic?”

“You never asked?”

Gibbs snorted. “You're a pain in the ass, Malloy.”

* * *

_“That is one hell of a shiner,” Gibbs observed, looking at Ben's face with a frown. “What happened?”_

_Ben looked down at the floor. “Nothing.”_

_“Don't you go saying nothing to me when it is obviously not nothing. How many times I gotta tell you—if you need help, ask. That's a rule, remember? Now tell me what happened. Was it one of the kids at school? Did they do this?”_

_Ben bit his lip, but he didn't answer. Damn it, what was with this kid? Years they had him in their house, like family, but it was like he'd forgotten all of that, forgotten who he could trust._

_“Let's get you some ice.”_

_“Gibbs?”_

_“What, Ben?”_

_“You're a marine. You could protect them, right?”_

_Gibbs frowned. “Not sure why you think the bullies would need protection, though I don't hit kids. I would make sure they got in trouble for hurting you, though.”_

_Ben nodded, but he still didn't give Gibbs a name to go with the bully._

* * *

“Good morning—afternoon, I mean—Irene,” Jake said as he approached her desk. She still seemed like a barrier in front of a barrier, her desk not quite blocking the double doors to Cabot's office, but her face could have done that on its own sometimes, so strong was her glare of disapproval. Jake knew of only one other like it—belonging to the man beside him. “I would have thought Cabot would have finally been incentive enough to retire.”

Irene laughed, looking younger as she did. “I'd be bored out of my skull if I retired. This way I get to enjoy myself.”

Jake had to smile at that. She must love giving Cabot hell, then. “Don't torture him too much. He can't take it.”

“Don't I know it,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Never seen a bigger baby in my life, and I've outlasted three generations of Billingtons so far.”

“You'll outlast Cabot, I'm sure,” Jake told her. “I know his name matches the letterhead, but what was his grandfather thinking leaving him in charge of the firm?”

Irene shook her head. “I still say his biggest mistake was not even trying to hire you when he could have.”

Jake grimaced. “I couldn't do it. If I practiced law like Cabot does, I couldn't live with myself.”

The last Billington to head the firm wasn't any better, but Jake would never voice that opinion to Irene, who actually liked him. He figured she'd seen him almost like a son or something. He had never wanted details or been brave enough to ask her for her real age. He'd always figured it was better to be on her good side than not.

“Which is still why he should have hired you,” she told him. “He's not expecting you, but go on in. And indulge me a little?”

“Irene, despite the way Gibbs looks, this should not end in violence,” Jake said. “And I don't know that I want you to hear all the stuff Cabot is bound to say about me. You might not like me afterward.”

She snorted, pressing the button for the doors. They swung open with a groan—he bet she had the maintenance crew under orders _not_ to get rid of the noise—and she waved them on in. Gibbs gave him a look for the conversation, but since the whole point of Jake's presence here was to exploit whatever connections he had, he wasn't going to explain. Irene liked him, and it got Gibbs where he wanted to be, even if he didn't know it yet.

He looked at the room and bit back a groan of his own. Cabot had managed to redo the office so it looked like a damned throne room. His ego knew no bounds.

“Well, this is a surprise,” Cabot said, rising from his seat and making a show of buttoning his suit. “I didn't think you left DC anymore, Malloy. Doesn't the NSA keep you under lock and key? Is that why you're here in disguise? Trying to stay out of the spy-light?”

Jake knew his clothes were ten times more comfortable than Cabot's expensive tailored suit. “Very funny, Cabot.”

“I know,” the other man said, almost bouncing with pride at the pathetic joke. “So, what brings you by? Did your father actually get you to work for the company? I thought that was Johnny boy's baby these days.”

“It is, and no,” Jake answered. “I don't work for the company. I'm still the NSA's lead attorney.”

“Government service. Such a waste,” Cabot said, and Jake waited, but the reaction from Gibbs didn't come. “So, what can I do for you? Oh, wait—you can't possibly be here for my legal advice. You were the one that said you'd hire an ambulance chaser before you ever did business with me, weren't you?”

Jake thought he heard Gibbs suppressing laughter, but maybe that was just a cough. “Your firm once represented Hannah Myerson's estate.”

Cabot shrugged. “Never heard of her.”

“Doubt you've heard of half the cases that your firm handles,” Gibbs said. “The one who handled it was Bradford Cabot Billington the third. He took a boy from the hospital and transferred his belongings.”

“And later arranged for him to be adopted,” Jake added. “We need to speak to that child.”

Cabot snorted. “Good luck with that one. Even the kid couldn't get that adoption unsealed—if it existed. And it doesn't. Myerson is not a name ever represented by this firm. You know that. Malloy wouldn't even be one if your father hadn't married your mother.”

Jake saw it again—that look Cabot had when he had vandalized Jake's school locker after a history lesson. He was so proud of himself, so assured of his superiority. “And yet somehow they managed to convince the school you thought NINA was a girl's name. How much did your grandfather pay them, anyway?”

“No one paid anything. They knew I was right.”

“You haven't been right about a damned thing since I set foot in this office,” Gibbs said. “Myerson's case exists. Maybe if you checked your records instead of talking out of your—”

“Thank you for your complete lack of cooperation,” Jake said, taking hold of Gibbs' arm and trying to get him out of the room.

“Always a pleasure,” Cabot called after them.

Gibbs tried to pull away to go back, but Jake knew there was no point. He wasn't going to get anything from Cabot because the man didn't know. Irene might know, but whether or not she'd take the bait she'd overheard was debatable. 

“He's not worth it, trust me.”

Gibbs grunted, stalking back to the elevator doors. “Man's an idiot.”

“Agreed.” Jake figured he'd have to pretend he wasn't aware of the conversation Gibbs would soon have with McGee about trying to break into that sealed file. Still, judging from the look Irene had just given them, this might not be a wasted trip after all.

“What about NINA?”

“No Irish Need Apply,” Jake explained as the elevator doors opened. He stepped inside, catching Gibbs' look. He shrugged. “Old money. Old prejudices.”

“Same stupidity.”

* * *

_“I thought you explained to the kids what poison oak was,” Shannon said, shaking her head as she added more calamine lotion to Kelly's arm. Kelly tried to itch her leg, and her mother caught her hand. “Let me put some of this on instead.”_

_“It's Ben's fault.”_

_The boy looked over at her, hurt. “I didn't do anything wrong.”_

_“No, but you couldn't tell it was poison oak without your glasses,” Kelly said, and he glared at her, throwing a used cotton ball at her head._

_Gibbs gave him a look. “Ben—”_

_“She's the one that knocked my glasses off,” he said, looking like he might cry as he started itching again. “It's_ her _fault.”_

_Gibbs turned to his daughter. “Did you knock Ben's glasses off?”_

_She folded her arms over her chest, looking so much like her mother that Gibbs would have laughed if he wasn't trying to find out who was responsible for this mess. “He said Kristin was prettier than Mom.”_

_“I did not. I said she wore fancier clothes. That's not the same thing.”_

_Shannon shook her head. “I don't believe this.”_

* * *

“This is downright shameful,” Ducky said as he entered the bedroom at the rear of the trailer home with Palmer behind him.

“What, Dunn? I guess he did kind of let go there before the end,” Anthony said, looking around the trailer in disgust. He picked up the bed sheet and shuddered.

“I mean this whole case,” Ducky corrected, since they could not know what he and Palmer had discussed on their way over or what Ducky was thinking. “A woman murdered, a child endangered and then abandoned, hidden away like something to be shamed of, treated as though he were disposable...”

“And the fact that there could have been a second murder,” Palmer said, joining Ducky by the body, grimacing as he did.

That earned him a disparaging look from Anthony. “Already covered that when Ducky said the child was endangered, Palmer.”

“No, I meant Kristin Stone,” Palmer said, and Ducky nodded in agreement. “She could have been murdered, too. Apparently, Dunn thought she was, but the pathologist didn't actually find what caused her death.”

“That in of itself should have been a red flag,” Ducky said, shaking his head. “A standard autopsy should have been able to find the cause. Since it didn't, much more was required.”

“Doctor Mallard and I were discussing possible answers, and we both kind of figure that she must have been poisoned with something a standard toxicological report wouldn't catch. Since she died alone, we don't know what her symptoms were to narrow down the poison, but we're pretty sure it was poison.”

“Yes,” Ducky agreed. “I could not say for certain, but I very strongly suspect that was indeed the case. I believe it could have been oleander, but there is no way to prove it. Even an exhumation could not give us the answer now.”

“But there aren't many ways someone could die on their own with no visible wounds,” Palmer said. “It almost had to be poison.”

“So we have two murders?” Elanor asked, biting her lip. “Is it possible that the first murder was the cause of the second one? Could Hannah have known something about Kristin's death and it got her killed?”

Timothy shook his head. “No, remember, Myerson was always working. That was why Stone watched her son before she died.”

“So if anyone saw something, it would have been Ben,” Elanor said, frowning. “Could... Could he have been the target, not his mother?”

“He lived. She didn't. Seems a little hard to believe,” Anthony said. “Why not make sure the kid was dead? Especially since he apparently took the time to stage the scene and change the boy's pajamas.”

Ducky frowned. “The killer changed the boy's pajamas?”

“Just his pants,” Elanor corrected. “Abby found it because the set was mismatched and the blood spatter was wrong. And we don't actually know why they were changed. Or when. Without pictures of Ben at the crime scene, we don't know where he was or what he was wearing. The switch could have been done by him or someone else, and it could have happened after the murder—at the hospital or when his belongings were being packed...”

“Or during the killing,” Timothy said. “There's just too much we don't know right now. What we really need is to find Ben.”

“Um, Doctor,” Palmer began, “I know I'm not an expert, and I really want to be wrong about this, but isn't there... well... a _reason_ that the killer would have changed the boy's pants?”

“Dear Lord, I hope not.”


	6. Family and Other Considerations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gibbs meets Jake's mother while his team continues to investigate Dunn's murder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jake's mother is an interesting character, and extremely hard to pin down. I had to rewrite the scenes with her and Gibbs a few times before I had them where I wanted them, more or less.
> 
> I was thinking she was like Laura Roslin at first, but then I kept seeing Moira Queen when I pictured her. *shrugs*

* * *

“There some place worth eating at around here?”

Jake stopped in front of the car, frowning. Gibbs had been acting strange since he started this case, and this wasn't all that different from any of the other strange things that he had done or said since it began. When Jake was honest about it, the weirdest part wasn't something that Gibbs had done—it was his own willingness to follow after him. His own need to finish this case and have the answers explained only what he'd done today. It wasn't like he'd known about the photograph until after the interview with Dunn.

He wasn't just worried about Gibbs' behavior. His own bothered him, too.

“Malloy?”

“I guess... I know we already made a long drive—one that still surprises me because you had to know what Cabot's answer was going to be—but you want to stay here and eat?” Jake asked, shaking his head. “We already wasted the morning driving up, and you want to stay here?”

“You think being here is a waste?”

“Cabot refused to help, and we knew he would,” Jake said. He looked back at the building. Yes, there was a small chance that Irene might choose to piss off Cabot by giving them the file, but her first loyalty had always been the firm first. “We could have called for that.”

Gibbs nodded. “Could have.”

Jake figured that Gibbs must have picked up on the same thing he had, since he was so determined to stay. “I think you're going to have to apply for a court order, and I'm not sure even a murder like this will get those records unsealed for you.”

Gibbs shrugged, and Jake was still confused by how easy he seemed to be taking this, but before he could ask about it, his phone rang, distracting him.

He answered it without thinking. “Malloy.”

“I still dislike your phone etiquette. I don't see why that has to be so popular these days. I swear I taught you better manners than that.”

Jake winced. “Mom? Why are you—”

“Did you really think that I wouldn't find out you were in town?”

Jake leaned against the car with a sigh. He had always hated that about this place. It might not be a small town, but that didn't mean that people didn't know everything about everyone else's business anyway. “This isn't a social visit.”

“Of course not. You went to see Cabot, and I know how you feel about him. Is there something I should know about?”

“No.”

“Jakob, I am your mother. I know when you're lying,” she told him, and he pinched his nose, feeling a headache starting. “I know you're going to say you're in a hurry, but I think you can spare a few minutes for your mother, can't you?”

“I'm not so sure I can,” Jake said. He looked over at Gibbs, but the other man just shrugged. He covered the phone. “My mother would like me to stop by.”

“Can't argue with mothers.”

Jake rolled his eyes. Gibbs must want to see his mother, probably about the damned case. He uncovered the phone. “We'll be there in a little bit.”

* * *

_“That looks like a lot of work for one person alone.”_

_Ben didn't look up from his project. “Our class is odd-numbered.”_

_“So you're doing this on your own?” Gibbs asked, looking over at the paper beside him. He looked over the description of activities and frowned. “Which one of these you planning on making?”_

_Ben pointed to the last item on the list. “That one.”_

_“That says you're making your own.”_

_“So?”_

_Gibbs just smiled. “Show me what you got.”_

* * *

“We don't have any proof that was why Ben's pants were changed,” Ellie said, feeling sick as she said those words. She knew none of them wanted to believe that. Not when this case was clearly personal for Gibbs. He'd known that little boy, and he would not want to hear this. She knew they needed to be wrong about that assumption.

“Still, it _is_ possible,” McGee said, just as unhappy about it as everyone else was. “One we haven't really looked at so far.”

“Abby is the best,” Tony said. “Everyone else missed the switch.” 

“Still, if Ben was sexually assaulted, that would change the entire course of the investigation,” McGee said, frowning. “I mean, the official conclusion was that it was a robbery, but that doesn't fit with what we know of Myerson's finances. Dunn's interviews included in the file don't show any real sign that he treated it like a robbery.”

Ellie frowned, though not because she disagreed. “McGee's right. Dunn's investigation seemed to assume that Myerson knew her killer despite the break in. He only included interviews with the neighbors and a few officers from the base.”

Tony shook his head. “Even if we don't buy the robbery theory, we would have run down any known thieves in the area. Would have looked into any known sexual offenders, too, even if we were looking at a robbery. The whole theory hangs on the fact that the son interrupted the killer—meaning he could just have easily interrupted a rape as a robbery. Dunn screwed the pooch on this. Big time.”

McGee looked down at Dunn's body. “Gibbs is going to be pissed when he finds out.”

“Unless he already knows,” Tony said, grimacing.

“Boys,” Ducky chided. “We do not believe that Jethro actually harmed this man, regardless of how poor his investigation was. He certainly would not have killed him. No amount of incompetence would warrant that.”

“We have to go back and do what Dunn didn't,” Ellie said. “We'll have to get a list of offenders that were active in the area at the time—burglars _and_ sexual offenders and try and find a way to eliminate them as suspects.”

“Great. Like we didn't have enough of this case stuck in the dead zone of the past,” Tony muttered, shaking his head. “Those records probably aren't online, either. Even if they are, how are we going to eliminate them when all of that documentation isn't going to be there? Gibbs couldn't pick a more difficult case if he tried.”

“Maybe not,” Ellie said, looking back at the hallway. “Tim, when we photographed the other bedroom of this trailer—”

“There were file boxes everywhere. You don't think—”

“If Dunn _did_ have other evidence in this case, if he held anything back from earlier interviews or did further research, it's going to be in there,” Ellie said, wincing as she remembered the size of those stacks. “We're going to have to go through all of them.”

Tony touched her shoulder. “Looks like you have your work cut out for you, probie.”

Ellie frowned. “Just me?”

“Well, McTracer here has got some phone records to work on, since I don't know about you, but I doubt that our killer has been stalking Dunn all this time. He probably alerted his killer to whatever he had and brought this on his own head,” Tony said. “Check his phone records and any local payphones just in case he thought he'd be smart and use another line.”

McGee nodded, heading out of the door. She sighed. That made sense, but still, it would take her weeks to get through all of those file boxes.

“What about you?” Ellie asked Tony. “What are you going to do?”

He grinned. “Talk to the neighbors.”

* * *

_“You're actually home.”_

_Hannah leaned against the door frame. “Maybe I should say that to you. How often have you been deployed in the last year? Maybe you should just stay over there—wherever there is. Does Shannon even know where you've been?”_

_Gibbs glared at her. He was so tired of this woman. Trying to act like she was superior when all she ever seemed to do was neglect and hurt her son. “You want to explain where you were today to him? How about why the hell you didn't come get him as soon as you got back? He's your son, isn't he? Then act like it, damn it.”_

_She winced. “I fell asleep.”_

_Gibbs shook his head. “Well, he's asleep now, and you're not getting him back tonight. If it were up to me, you wouldn't get him back at all.”_

* * *

“This is where you grew up?”

Malloy shrugged. “Not exactly.”

Gibbs frowned. “The hell does that mean?”

“It means my family has several homes scattered across multiple continents,” Malloy answered with a shrug. “We were in and out of any of a number of them at any given time. It depended a lot on what was going on with the business.”

Gibbs grunted, deciding he wasn't going to ask further. Malloy's family had money, no denying that, but he didn't care about that. He was here about Ben, and he wanted answers, answers that someone with Malloy's family's kind of money might just have.

Malloy opened the door and walked into the house. Gibbs figured the few trinkets in the front hall were worth more than his entire home. He didn't know anything about art, but the frames on the paintings looked expensive enough on their own. 

“Mom should be in here,” Malloy said, opening the door to a room just off the main hall. As he stepped inside, a woman rose from the chair, She walked right over to him, wrapping her arms around him and hugging him close.

She stepped back, cupped his cheek, and smiled in satisfaction. “It is good to see you. It's been too long since Thanksgiving.”

Malloy smiled back, but it seemed a little forced to Gibbs. “Mom, this is Ellie's boss, Agent Gibbs. Gibbs, this is my mother—”

“Constance Malloy,” she said, holding out her hand for Gibbs to shake. Her grip was firm, and Gibbs got the sense that under her fancy clothes and polished manner she had a backbone of steel. “I would have thought if you were here, Agent Gibbs, you'd be with my daughter-in-law, not my son.”

Gibbs shrugged. “Bishop's working a different part of the case.”

Constance's eyes went to her son. Malloy didn't look at her, sitting down instead. “Is this like this murder you got involved in at the airport?”

“It's more complicated than that.”

“Of course it is,” she said. She gestured for Gibbs to sit but did not take a chair herself. “I suppose if it was anything you felt I could help with, you would have come to see me first.”

Malloy sighed, shaking his head as he did. Gibbs sat, needing to rest his knee. Asking for food would have made his companion even more uncomfortable than he already was, but Gibbs was still trying to understand the tension between them.

“They're upstairs,” she said, touching his shoulder, and Malloy looked up at his mother, frowning. She gave him a small smile. “In the medicine cabinet, and don't try and tell me you're not hurting. I'm your mother. I know better than that.”

Malloy sighed. “It's just a headache. We were going to go eat when you called.”

“It's a migraine,” she disagreed, touching his cheek. “I can tell the difference. You always think I can't, but I'm always right. Go on. Take one and lie down. I will keep your friend company.”

Despite everything, Malloy's smile seemed genuine. “Don't you think that's what I'm worried about?”

She laughed, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. “I promise to be on my best behavior. Now off with you.”

Malloy didn't try and argue with her again. He gave Gibbs a questioning look, but Gibbs waved him on. If Malloy had a migraine, he shouldn't drive, and Gibbs wasn't sure how well his knee would take it if he did. Besides, if he'd thought that the only point in coming here was the lawyer, he wouldn't have made the drive. He could have been refused over the phone. No, that visit was a formality, but Malloy's interaction with the older secretary held promise. She probably knew the case, and she might even give Malloy the answers that Billington wouldn't.

And there was something else— _someone_ else—who might have information Gibbs could use.

“Thought he didn't visit all that often.”

She shrugged, sitting back down across from him. “With the severity of the ones he gets, having his medication on hand is only prudent, and we are nothing if not prudent.”

“That motto from the Malloy side or the other one?”

She leaned back in the chair, giving him an appraising gaze. “Neither, I suppose. My father certainly was not the only one who considered my marriage to Jonathon a mistake. He was an upstart, after all. His family came to the states in the eighteenth century, not the seventeenth. My word, the horror of it. How can we possibly bear the shame?”

Gibbs snorted. “Sounds pretty ridiculous to me.”

“It is, but my father and many of his contemporaries felt otherwise. Some of them have lost the fortunes they once had. Their lineage matters because that name is all they have left to satisfy their rather enormous pride,” she said. She folded her hands together. “My father had both—the money and the pride—and it was rather wounded by my decision.”

“Because it made it look like you married your husband for the money?”

She smiled. “Oh, I did. It's never been any sort of secret between us.”

“You have an interesting sense of humor.”

“You say that like I was joking,” she said. “I wasn't. We were quite honest with each other when we married. I chose someone with the means to provide me with the lifestyle I was used to without living the rest of my life under my father's thumb waiting for the day I did my duty and gave him a son to pass his fortune to. Mine was a rather quiet sort of rebellion, but one nevertheless. It was actually easier for us to spend the first part of our marriage 'overseeing our assets in Europe.'”

“You know of anyone who made more of a noisy rebellion?”

“In what sense? You're going to have to be more specific, since I'm not sure what you consider noisy. Joining an actual protest or just outspoken defiance?” She smoothed out her blouse sleeve. “Jane Howard joined a commune in the seventies, and rumor has it she died of an overdose, but no one knows. Elizabeth Masters married a gigolo who took all of her money and left her destitute. She drank herself to death, it's said. Jamie Forest had a sex change—that's one of the bigger scandals in the last fifty years—but without knowing what you want to hear—”

“Girl who got herself knocked up and married a penniless marine.”

“Hmm. I think Betty Knox did that back in the forties, but he died and she remarried into old money again.”

“More recent than that. Probably around the time when your son was a baby.”

“Well, now, that's a silly question to ask. I told you—we were in Europe then. For the first ten years of our marriage, actually. It did take my father that long to get over himself. We didn't even see each other on holidays. I completely lost touch with the gossip here.”

“What about someone named Hannah?”

“There was a Hannah Wilder. She was my great-great-great aunt, I believe,” she thought for a minute. “Hannah. Um—oh, Edward Fuller had a wife named Hannah. She died back when I was a kid, I think. Scandal there if you want—she supposedly threw herself off their balcony. Rumor still persists that he pushed her off, though.”

Gibbs watched her. “No one more recent?”

“It is a very solid, very traditional name. Based on the Bible, I believe, though its popularity around here has waned some as more trophy wives and marriages for money occur. The strangest names come out of that. Who names a child Rainbow? Or Rocket?” She shook her head. “I'm afraid I was all too conventional myself—even fell into the trap of naming Jonathon after his father.”

“And Jake?”

“Very traditional, isn't it?”

* * *

_“Can't that woman ever learn to wear something with taste?” Shannon muttered, shaking her head as she did. “This get-together is for the kids, not a bachelor's party.”_

_Gibbs shrugged. “Think she figures she'll land an officer if she keeps it up.”_

_Shannon snorted, turning to their daughter and her friend Maddie. “Don't ever wear anything like that, you hear me? Both of you girls have more self-respect than that, and you already know what it's like when a man treats you right.”_

_“I would never. That dress is ugly.”_

_Maddie giggled. “And she already knows she's going to marry Ben when she grows up.”_

_“Hey,” Kelly said, and Maddie ran off, still laughing._

_Gibbs looked at his wife, and she shrugged, not hiding her smile._

* * *

“So,” Tony said, leaning against the railing and looking up at Dunn's neighbor, Joanna. She twirled her curls around her finger as she watched him. “You saw two men at Dunn's trailer yesterday? You sure about that?”

“Sweetie, you do not forget a car like that,” she said. “I don't think I've ever seen a Mercedes around here, not even one that was so old only a grandma would drive it.”

Tony nodded. He had a feeling he knew that car and who'd driven it. “This was in the afternoon, right?”

“Yep. Like I told them other officers what asked, I didn't see anyone here last night. I had a little too much to drink while watching my favorite movie—always makes me cry so much—and went right to bed afterward. Didn't even get a chapter read in my new romance novel,” she said, shaking her head. “But I did see someone yesterday afternoon.”

“Two someones.”

“That's right. There were two,” she said, grinning. “One old guy, not too bad for his age. He got out first.”

“And the other one?”

She fanned herself. “Ooh, that driver. Even the glasses didn't take away from how cute he was.”

Tony glanced back at Dunn's trailer, getting a sense of the distance between them. He turned back with a frown. “Cute, huh?”

“A little less cute than you,” she told him, and Tony smiled back at her to keep her talking.

“You know, that's a bit of a distance from here. You sure he was that cute? You got a very good look at him?”

She shrugged. “I may have decided it was a good time to go jogging. I mean, how often do you see a car like that? If I could have arranged to meet him... Maybe I wouldn't be living here no more.”

Tony decided not to crush her dreams by telling her that Malloy was very, very married. “Did you hear anything when you took your jog?”

She nodded. “I was about to stop for a stretch to get his attention when that jerk Dunn almost attacked him.”

Tony frowned. No one had mentioned that. Then again, Gibbs wasn't really sharing with this case, even less so than with most of his cases. They wouldn't even have known about the case if they hadn't gone to Abby for information. He hadn't stopped her from telling them, but that wasn't much.

“He hurt him?”

“Oh, no,” she said, shaking his head. “The older man stopped it, and they actually argued the two of them before they got back in the car. If he hadn't been so angry, he would have noticed me.”

“I'm sure he would have,” Tony agreed with a fake smile.

* * *

_“I see you made my favorite,” Gibbs said, sitting down and picking up his fork. Kelly giggled, and Gibbs frowned as he looked over at her. She just started laughing harder._

_“What is so funny?”_

_Shannon ruffled his hair. “Listen to you. So sure of yourself. Does the earth revolve around you, Gibbs? Is that what you think?”_

_Gibbs eyed his wife and then his daughter, sensing something was up between the two of them. They were in collusion, and when they were, it was never good. “I think someone's teasing me.”_

_“Is that so? I'll have you know I didn't make this for you.”_

_Kelly nodded, clapping her hands together. “It's for Ben.”_

_Gibbs frowned, eying his wife. “Oh, is it?”_

_“It's the anniversary of him getting his glasses,” Kelly said. “We're celebrating.”_

_“Are we now? And why did we make my favorite if we're celebrating for Ben?”_

_The two of them just looked at each other and smiled._

* * *

“This some kind of bribe?”

Constance laughed. “Agent Gibbs, if I were to attempt that, don't you think I'd offer you something far more enticing? You've seen my home. There isn't much in the limits of what I could give, but then I am not offering you a bribe. I can, however, tell when a man is hungry.”

Gibbs took a seat at the dining table, eying the food in front of him. Either she'd done research in advance, or her cook was damned near psychic. He would have ordered this off any menu that he might have had in front of him. “You're not eating?”

“I already ate,” she said. “Though I suppose I should have waited so I could convince you that I'm not trying to poison you or something.”

He eyed her. “Why would I think that?”

“You investigate murders. You came here with my son, spoke to lawyers that represent my family's interests, and you asked about people within my social circle. You suspect one of them is somehow involved,” she said, her eyes focused on his face. Gibbs noted they were dark, though they could match her son's in intensity. Her mind was just as quick, too.

“And yet you have my favorite food ready and sitting in front of me.”

Constance looked at the plate. “You think I had my cook go to that sort of trouble for you?”

Gibbs reassessed the food. Nothing unusual about any of it. “This was for Jake.”

“Our cook keeps what she needs on hand for all of his favorites,” Constance agreed. “You may as well have it since I know he won't eat, not when he's got a migraine.”

Gibbs picked up the fork, taking a bite. He didn't really figure that she was pulling anything. Maybe she seemed a little suspicious, but no more than her son had when Gibbs first knew him. Malloy had been nervous, babbling even. Constance was calm, concerned, and maybe even a little calculated. Everything that was a little off with her, though, could be explained as her being an overprotective mother or just a controlling elitist.

“You planning on watching me eat the entire thing?” Gibbs asked, reaching for the water glass.

“No, I was planning on asking you if you were having an affair with my daughter-in-law.”

Gibbs spit out his water. “Excuse me?”

Constance shrugged. “Why should you be the only one who asks uncomfortable questions?”

“Have I asked any of you yet?”

“No, but you will,” she said with confidence. “We're an old family, Agent Gibbs. That means there are a lot of skeletons in our closet, and no, I do not believe for a second that you came along with my son on a purely social call.”

Gibbs nodded, conceding that point. “Why'd you disinherit your son?”

“Who told you that?”

“He did, though not in those words. He made a point of saying that his family had money. He didn't,” Gibbs told her. “There a reason for that?”

“Of course, and you've met her,” Constance answered. She shook her head. “My father was a very proud, very traditional man. A patriarch in all the worst senses of the word. He wanted nothing more than to pass his name and legacy on to a son. He didn't get one. Then he eventually got a grandson, but before my father was willing to release even a fraction of his hold on his money, my son got married. Without his permission and to a woman my father would never accept.”

Gibbs leaned forward across the table. “That only explains why your father did it. What the hell has your husband got against him?”

“You don't know my son at all, do you? Granted, Jake is more passive than I'd like about a great many things, but in this case, feeling as strongly about his wife as he does... He was the one to sever the ties. He refused to have a part in the business, and he stopped accepting any kind of financial support from us, though that was as much as over back when he finished law school. He chose the NSA, he met her, and things never quite recovered from that.”

“You think so little of Bishop?”

“I think Elanor has never loved my son as much as he loved her, but then I have a mother's bias, don't I? No one would ever be good enough for my son.”

Gibbs studied her. “Even if she was born into the right income bracket and had the required pedigree?”

“Those things mattered to my father. Not me.”

* * *

_Gibbs came out to the backyard, beer in hand. Shannon was still inside, making lemonade for the kids. He knew the girls were having fun. He could hear that from the kitchen, but it took him a moment before he found Ben sitting up against the house, using the shadow of the roof for shade._

_“What are they doing?” Ben asked, frowning as he watched Kelly and Maddie whispering into each other's ears. One would say something, they'd laugh, and then the whole thing would repeat in reverse._

_“Gossiping.”_

_Ben shook his head, looking up at Gibbs. “Girls are weird.”_

_Gibbs just laughed, glad his wife was inside the house. “Yes, they are.”_

* * *

Jake let out another deep breath, knowing this wasn't going to work. He couldn't relax here enough to make the migraine go away, and that was not going to change. The idea of Gibbs talking to his mother was making him more sick to his stomach than the headache.

He forced himself up from the bed. He would feel better if he got Gibbs far from this house. He didn't think that he should ever let Gibbs interact with his mother again. That was just a frightening concept.

He crossed to the door and started over to the stairs.

“Mister Jake?”

He turned back to see the maid standing there. “Mary. Is something wrong?”

“Can you give this to your mother? She left it in her bedroom again.”

Jake accepted the cellphone from the maid, knowing that his mother wouldn't want it even now. She hated being tied to things, even as much as she liked keeping tabs on everyone and everything. He carried it with him down the stairs, surprised to find the front room empty.

He should have asked Mary where his mother was, but then he hadn't thought she'd leave the other room. The only other place—oh, great. Was she eating with Gibbs? This was like a nightmare. He would say he wasn't awake, but he knew he was.

He walked into the dining room, finding his mother and Gibbs locked into some kind of staring contest. Jake ignored it, heading over to his mother's side.

“Mary says you left this upstairs,” Jake told his mother, ending the contest in a tie as they both looked at him. He held the cellphone out to his mother, who grimaced.

“I hate these things, don't you?” Constance asked Gibbs. “Never a moment's peace.”

Jake wondered if they'd bond over that, but he didn't get an answer when her statement was proved true. The phone rang, and she almost dropped the offending object.

She stood, needing to compose herself before taking the call. “Excuse me for a moment.”

Gibbs glanced toward his plate and then pushed it aside, apparently only planning to eat half of it. He rose, coming around the table to where Jake stood. “Not much of a nap.”

“I never said I was taking one,” Jake reminded him. “Did you have anywhere else that you wanted to go while you were here?”

Gibbs shook his head. “Not sure. You know anyone more aware of gossip than your mother?”

Jake frowned. “You're trying to track Ben through local gossip?”

“Someone has to know who Hannah was before she married Myerson.”

Jake knew that was true, but he wasn't sure that gossip was the answer, either, not if his mother hadn't known about it. Even if she'd been in Europe for a long time, she would know from before Hannah ran off. “Gibbs, I'm not so sure this is the way to get the answer you want. If Hannah was known in this area—Mom, what's wrong?”

His mother walked to the end of the table, taking hold of a chair before speaking.

“Irene Walker died,” she said, shaking her head as though she didn't believe it. “I always thought that battleaxe would outlive us all.”


	7. Tenuous Ties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot of possible connections, but no definite proof.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had the brainstorm the other night, but I had to rewatch an episode from season five and also build up to it, but I think it's a perfect turning point.
> 
> It does also make this get very long. Oops.

* * *

Gibbs frowned, watching Constance Malloy carefully. He could see from the corner of his eye that her son was shaken, but it was the mother that interested him now. Was she as bothered as her son, and did that mean that she'd lied earlier?

His gut had a hard time with her. A part of him liked her. Another part didn't trust her, but he didn't know that he would have felt that way if her son didn't have the same eyes as Ben. Dunn had also seen the resemblance, but that didn't make Malloy Ben.

Unless he was lying and covering the fact that he remembered something, but Gibbs hadn't gotten the sense that he was. He also didn't know why Ben would. The kid hadn't had any part in killing his mother or Kristin Stone, and he should have known that he could trust Gibbs.

“Walker. She the one from the law firm?”

Malloy nodded. “She was. I... What happened?” 

“Bethany said she must have had a heart attack on her way back to her car. She just fell over in the parking lot,” Constance said, going over to her son and touching his arm. “Sweetheart, it must just have been her time.”

“I know, but we just saw her today, and she seemed fine,” Malloy said, shaking his head. “It was only a few hours ago, if that. It just... It feels impossible.”

“I know. It seems so strange. Like the world will never be the same,” Constance said, pulling her son into her arms. “The end of an era never is.”

“This happen at the law firm?” Gibbs asked, frowning as he watched them. Was it the migraine, or was Malloy actually taking this woman's death that hard?

“No, the post office,” Constance said, pulling away from her son with obvious reluctance. She put a hand on his cheek. “All you did was go see Cabot. You didn't cause this. I don't know why you always assume everything is your fault, but it wasn't.”

Malloy turned away from her. “I don't know. She was fine when we left.”

“Goodness,” Constance turned to Gibbs. “Tell me you don't actually think that woman was murdered. She was old when I was a child. A heart attack isn't that impossible for either of you to believe, is it? Jake, I know what your wife would say, but you have never been as paranoid as her.”

Malloy took off his glasses again, rubbing his nose. “If the timing was different, I don't know that I would care. It's just it coming so close after our visit...”

“Were you close to her?”

“Not particularly, no,” Constance answered, “but she did always have a soft spot for Jake. We spent a lot of time at the law firm when we first got back from Europe, negotiating the business here. Irene took to him. She had a sense about people. She knew the good ones.”

“That so?” Gibbs asked Malloy. “You know of any other reason why she—”

“We used to debate Perry Mason,” Malloy answered, getting a frown from his mother. “She actually gave me my first book, since I hadn't realized the television show was based on them. It wasn't anything inappropriate.”

“I always suspected Irene was to blame,” Constance teased. “Not that you're not a fine lawyer, but it seemed so unlikely a choice for you—my shy little boy in a courtroom. That I didn't see, ever.”

“And still won't because I don't do trial law,” Malloy told her. He looked over at Gibbs. “I suppose you'll want to confirm that she died of a heart attack.”

“Depends. Did you think she might have broken the rules and given you the Myerson folder?”

Malloy grimaced. “I... I wondered if she might. She did seem annoyed with Cabot, and as Mom said, she was kind of fond of me, but her loyalty was always to the firm, so I wasn't sure. I guess now we'll never know.”

Gibbs shook his head. “Think we'd have a pretty good idea if it turned out she was murdered.”

* * *

_“You have to find him.”_

_Gibbs looked down at his daughter, frowning. She didn't seem worried, and he wasn't sure if this “him” was one of her toys or maybe an imaginary friend. Kids had those things, though Gibbs had never known Kelly to be one of them._

_“Find who?”_

_“Ben,” she said, folding her arms over her chest and going into a full-fledged pout. “He's too good. I can't find him.”_

_“You can't.”_

_“Not anywhere,” she insisted, lip jutting out. “He's too good, Daddy. Hides too good.”_

_Gibbs tried not to laugh. Ben never had any trouble finding Kelly because she tended to giggle when he got close to her, but Ben stayed quiet. She'd probably passed him two or three times by now. “All right. Let's go find him.”_

* * *

“What have we got?”

“You like having us as your stooges, sent out to do your dirty work, don't you?” Tony asked, and Fornell looked at him with a frown. “Oh, no, I am so onto you. You wait for Ducky to do the autopsy. You leave the room full of file boxes for us to take custody of, and you even do a canvas so sloppy I'm forced to repeat it. What is it, Fornell? You forget how to be a good cop?”

Fornell snorted. “No, and I haven't forgotten what a pain in the ass you are, either.”

Tony smiled back at him, pleased. McGee rolled his eyes, but as far as Tony could see, he was lucky. He still had computer records to go through, whereas Tony was running out of excuses to avoid helping Bishop with the file boxes known as hell.

“So far, not much. We figure whoever killed Dunn was an amateur, given the way the faked suicide was botched. All they did was wipe the gun clean and put it near the bed,” McGee reported. “Abby's still working on the trace evidence, but she's backed up between the everything from the trailer and what we already had from Myerson's case—and we can't rule out that Dunn was killed because of something he knew of Myerson's death.”

“Did you think I was going to ask her to change priorities?” Fornell asked, amused. “I agree with all of you—it's pretty damned suspicious that he died just after the case was reopened and Gibbs went to see him.”

And Dunn almost attacked Malloy, Tony thought but didn't add. That pointed to Gibbs or Malloy as a suspect, but Malloy had something Gibbs did not—an alibi. He'd been with his wife all night. If Gibbs had, for some inexplicable reason, killed Dunn, Tony didn't want to know or help anyone build the case against him.

“According to cellphone records, Dunn was out of prepaid minutes on his phone and hadn't used it in two days prior to the murder, which may have been why Gibbs went to see him in person,” McGee said. “I'm still tracking down numbers made on public telephones within a two block radius, but I have to check each call one by one since we can't be sure when or if Dunn used the phone and who he might have been calling since most people involved in the Myerson case are dead or have moved since.”

“Bishop's started on the file boxes, but they're a mess.”

“Anything else?”

Tony's phone rang, and he picked it up, glad to have something to delay Fornell's inevitable order. “DiNozzo.”

“Sitrep,” Gibbs barked, and Tony laughed.

“You know, we were just in the middle of one. Let me put you on speaker,” Tony said, pushing the button. “As we just told Fornell, we can't find any proof that Dunn made any phone calls, and Bishop is still trying to sort through the room full of boxes. No witnesses in the trailer park saw anyone that night, but a jogger did get close to your earlier conversation.”

Fornell frowned. “You left that part out, DiNozzo.”

Tony shrugged. “She didn't see anything of relevance. Or did she, boss?”

“No. Dunn was hostile and uncooperative.”

“How is it going on your end?” McGee asked. “Did you get anywhere?”

“Confirmed that lawyers are a pain in the ass,” Gibbs said. “Yes, Malloy, that includes you.”

Whatever Jake said to that didn't carry over to the phone, which was a shame, because Tony would have liked to hear it.

“So no luck tracking down the witness from twenty years ago?” Fornell asked, folding his arms over his chest.

“Thought I had something. Turned into another dead end. Malloy is drafting the petition to have the adoption file unsealed as we speak.”

“That why you made him go with you, Boss?” Tony couldn't help asking. What was it about Malloy that had Gibbs involving him in the case and not them.

As usual, Gibbs ignored the question. “Ducky around?”

“Down in his lab. You want us to—”

“I'll call him.”

Gibbs hung up, and Tony looked up at Fornell. “Well, that was useful, wasn't it?”

* * *

_“You're going to spoil your dinner,” Shannon said, putting her hands on her hips. Ben looked up, eyes wide and full of guilt. “Who gave you these?”_

_“Bruce,” Ben said, handing over his Cracker Jacks to her and biting his lip. “I'm sorry. He said it was okay.”_

_Gibbs snorted. “Bruce is an idiot. You listen to that lady right there. She's the smartest person you'll ever meet, and she knows what's best for you.”_

_Shannon smiled at him, and Gibbs leaned over to get a kiss, putting his arm around her waist. She held out a hand to Ben. “Come here, sweetie. I'm not mad at you, though next time I think you should ask a responsible adult when you're offered a snack.”_

_Ben nodded. “I will.”_

* * *

Ellie opened up her desk drawer and frowned. She didn't know what she wanted to eat, but she needed something. Hours alone with Dunn's files had made her tired and cranky, and she needed a pick me up to improve her mood. Unfortunately, she didn't have any of what she would have normally used for a quick mood boost in her drawer.

She didn't have much of _anything_ in her drawer. She'd gotten low on supplies and forgotten to replenish them. She picked up the last two bags of chips and the granola bars, setting them on her desk with a grimace.

“That bad, huh?”

She looked over at McGee with a sigh. “I think I need something overly sugary and possibly coated in chocolate. I have potato chips, corn chips, and a granola bar. This is a disaster.”

“I actually meant Dunn's files, but okay,” McGee said, and she winced, not needing the reminder. “Did you find anything yet?”

“Nothing so far that relates to the Myerson case. Most of what I found related to the last two years of his taxes,” she said, shaking her head. “I've reorganized them in case we need to have a forensic accountant look at them later, but I don't think they're the reason he was killed.”

“Probably not,” McGee agreed. He leaned back in his chair, stretching. “So far I've eliminated _one_ of the payphones close to Dunn's trailer park, but there are still more to go through. I have to check each number and make sure there's no possible connections to Dunn or Myerson, and since most of Myerson's records are still not online...”

They both had terrible jobs. “I'm sorry, Tim.”

He shrugged. “It'll be worth it if we find Dunn's killer. And Myerson's.”

“Yeah, though I notice Tony didn't stick around to help with either of our tasks,” Ellie said, reaching for the granola bar and opening it. It wasn't what she wanted, but she wasn't sure she'd have a chance to get anything else.

“He said he found a couple of witnesses he wanted to talk to about the case, and he was going to go do that.”

Ellie bit into her granola bar viciously. Chewing and swallowing it down, she shook her head. “That's very convenient. He gets out of doing anything.”

“Well,” McGee began, grimacing. “I think he wasn't making up at least one of them.”

That was a bit of a relief. Ellie would hate to think that Tony had made it all up. He finished the granola bar and threw away the wrapper. “He told you who he was going to see?”

“No, but it makes sense that he would try and contact Maddie Tyler,” McGee answered, and Ellie frowned. She didn't recognize that name from any of the files.

Ellie opened her corn chips. “Did she live by Dunn? Or—”

“Actually, she was best friends with Gibbs' daughter, Kelly,” McGee explained. “A few years back, she got into trouble, and Gibbs went to help her. He kept us out of a lot of the investigation. Still, she was in and out of their house just like Ben was. She might have seen or heard something.”

“She wasn't interviewed in the original case. There's no record of her at all.”

McGee shrugged. “She was a kid back then. They didn't interview Kelly, either, not that I think Gibbs would have let them. It's still possible she didn't know anything, but she is one of few people left in the Myerson case who is still alive.”

Ellie nodded. “Makes sense. I wouldn't mind talking to her myself.”

“It is an interesting side of Gibbs to see,” McGee agreed. She was about to ask him about that when the elevator dinged. “Hey, boss. We were just discussing the progress we'd made and—And you're already in the elevator again. Okay, then.”

“I didn't think he could move that fast these days,” Ellie said, shaking her head as she looked down at her bag of chips and realized it was just about empty.

“Oh, he can,” Jake said, coming up to her desk. “I don't think he's willing to admit his knee is bothering him. Even when we stopped on the way back, he wouldn't say it was, but he didn't want to drive anymore, either.”

“Which is an answer in of itself,” McGee said. “I thought Gibbs was making you drive.”

“He was until this afternoon,” Jake said. He set a bag down on Ellie's desk, and she leaned over to look inside it, unable to stop the grin when she saw just what she'd been craving sitting on top. She went around the desk, hugging him tight. “Uh, Ellie...”

“You are the most wonderful husband ever,” she told him, closing her eyes as she continued to hold him. “How did you know I was out of snacks?”

“Didn't,” Jake told her, not backing out of the embrace. She didn't think they'd had a hug last this long for a while. “Gibbs ate earlier, but I had a migraine, so when we stopped on the way back, I grabbed a few things. Mostly because they reminded me of you, I think.”

She nodded. “You don't eat half the stuff that's in that bag.”

“It's fine. I'm not sure I really want to eat much of anything, though the crackers are mine,” Jake told her, and she let him step back with reluctance. “I'm not sure the migraine is gone. It hasn't been as bad as it could have been. Mom insisted on me taking a pill as soon as I started wincing, so I suppose that I owe her.”

“Only you might not have had a migraine if you hadn't gone to see her,” Ellie said, and Jake grimaced but didn't deny it. As much as he loved his mother, being around his family always made him tense and nervous, and the stress tended to set off his migraines.

“I don't know,” Jake said. “I wasn't feeling that great before we left. That dream...”

It still unsettled him, just as it kept bothering her. She didn't think either of them would get any real rest until this case was solved and Myerson's killer found. She didn't want him to have to go through another nightmare like that, though. His dream had scared her almost as much as it had him.

“I'm glad you're back,” she said, tempted to hug him again. She touched his cheek instead. “I missed you.”

“And I missed you,” he said, giving her a smile in return.

“And you're probably going to have to miss her again,” McGee said, and they both looked over at him with a frown. “Bishop has a whole room full of boxes she's going through to find Dunn's case files. I've got payphone records I'm trying to clear. It's going to be a long night.”

McGee already sounded grumpy, not that she could blame him. Ellie hadn't been happy herself until Jake showed up with a fresh supply of snacks. She looked back at Jake.

“He's right. I have a lot to go through. I don't think I'll be home at all tonight.”

Jake winced. “You're sure? It can't wait until—”

“We have at least two murders already,” Ellie reminded him. “Maybe three, if Kristin Stone was also murdered. We haven't proved it yet, but almost all of us believe that Dunn was killed because of Hannah Myerson's case. There could be another murder before this is all over.”

Jake nodded. “Gibbs already thinks there was.”

“Who?” McGee asked, frowning. “We didn't hear anything about another murder.”

“Because it was a very old woman and most people agree that she had a heart attack. Gibbs thinks differently because he wants it to be connected—Irene seemed to be our best chance of circumventing the legal red tape and getting to the adoption file on Ben,” Jake told him. He leaned against her desk, pinching his nose. “At Irene's age, though, a heart attack isn't at all surprising.”

“But that does explain why Gibbs went straight for the other elevator,” McGee said. “He wants Ducky to prove it was murder.”

Ellie touched her husband's back, and Jake gave her a pained look. She pulled him close again. “I'm sorry. I know Irene was a big part of why you became a lawyer.”

Jake leaned his head against her shoulder. “Am I still a suspect in Dunn's death?”

“You never really were,” McGee said. “You had an alibi, and it was Gibbs we thought had gone back to see Dunn again, not you.”

“Then...” Jake lifted his head. “You want company with your files?”

“You don't have to stay,” she told him, touching his cheek again. That was sweet of him, but he looked like he didn't feel good and should probably get some rest at home. “You should get some sleep, even if I don't. I do, however, appreciate the offer.”

Jake shook his head, moving to whisper in her ear. “I wasn't offering for you. Ellie... I don't want to be alone tonight.”

Ellie grimaced. Was he that scared to sleep? She supposed it didn't matter—he had suffered a loss today, and she should have realized he wouldn't want to be alone after that, either. 

“Bring the snacks?”

* * *

_“I thought we'd discussed this,” Gibbs said, reaching for the power button on the television. “We fixed the pajamas, right?”_

_Ben looked down at his hands. “We did.”_

_Gibbs frowned, kneeling down next to him. “There something else? And remember, no one here thinks you're a crybaby.”_

_Ben drew his legs up against his chest, wrapping his arms around them. He buried his head in his knees. Gibbs touched him, and he jerked away, almost falling over. Gibbs watched him, not moving close again._

_“You have a nightmare?”_

_Ben nodded._

_“You know that as much as you like his cars, Perry Mason is probably not the best thing to watch when you have a nightmare.”_

_Ben shook his head. “He always gets the bad guy. He makes it safe.”_

* * *

_“I don't want to do this. You know I don't want to do this.”_

_He pushed at the weight on top of him, but he couldn't get it off. He'd been able to breathe when she was screaming, but she wasn't screaming anymore. She'd gone silent, and he was afraid of that quiet. It was wrong. He knew it was wrong._

_Something covered his mouth. “You wouldn't tell. I know you wouldn't. I can let you live.”_

_He shook his head, tears blurring his eyes as he struggled to breathe. He would tell. He would tell. If he lived, he would tell..._

Jake started awake, shaking. He opened his eyes, blinking away fresh tears. Damn. He'd been crying. His fingers trembled as he tried to wipe off his face, feeling embarrassed on top of his panic. He'd thought if anything, he'd dream about Irene, about seeing her at the law firm, about the stories the boys at his school used to tell about her and how she ate kids to stay young. They'd pegged him as her next victim, but she'd only ever been nice to him.

No one seemed to believe that, but he did like her. She'd been smart and funny, nonsense. Maybe a bit like Gibbs in a way.

“Jake?”

He couldn't look at her, but Ellie didn't stop, coming close to him and lifting his chin.

“You had another nightmare, didn't you?”

He sighed, and she moved over so that she could sit beside him, taking him into her arms. He didn't have a shower to wash off the dream this time, and he couldn't stop the trembling. He felt weak, and he hated it.

“This is so... pathetic.”

Ellie shook her head. “Everyone has nightmares at one time or another. I don't know why you'd say that. It's not like you haven't made contributions to this case or that you fell apart when we investigated the murder at the airport.”

“I don't know... I feel like... I've twisted something, made it all wrong,” Jake said, still not wanting to discuss the possibility that Dunn had raised. He knew that Gibbs saw Ben in him, but that didn't mean that it was true or that it was right that he kept having dreams like he was Ben.

If that even was what that was.

“I never thought I had that much of an imagination.”

Ellie ran her fingers through his hair. “I think you are trying to punish yourself too much for something you can't control. We all have dreams. Working this case is feeding yours.”

He let his head rest against hers, too tired, too emotionally drained to continue the conversation. He closed his eyes, but as soon as he did, he felt himself tense up, about ready to have another panic attack. He swallowed, trying to calm down.

“Ellie, you don't think there's any way I could... know something about this case, right?”

“You mean, do I think you that had something to do with Dunn's death?” Ellie shook her head. “No. I was with you, remember? And why would you even want to hurt him?”

“I... It's just the dreams. First I dream that the shadow came after me—Ben, maybe—and then killed a woman, and this time... The killer said he could let me live if I was quiet. And it's just so...”

“Vivid?” Ellie finished. “Jake, that doesn't mean you're having visions or anything. It is actually very common for investigators to picture the crime. Some do it through the eyes of the killer. You're doing it through the eyes of Ben.”

Jake grimaced. He almost thought he'd rather see it from the killer.

* * *

_“Ben, why aren't you eating?” Shannon asked, stopping her own bite to frown at him. Normally the kid had more of an appetite, and seeing him without one tended to jump Gibbs' wife to one conclusion—and unfortunately, she wasn't often wrong. “Are you feeling okay?”_

_Ben looked like he might puke right there. “Kristin used to make this. She... She said she was going to make it that afternoon.”_

_“Oh, sweetheart,” Shannon said, wincing, but Ben was up and out of the chair in an instant, running off, probably to the bathroom._

_Gibbs sighed. That kid might just need therapy._

* * *

Abby yawned as she made her way toward the evidence locker. She needed more of what had been collected at Dunn's house now that she was finished with everything from Myerson's case—well, until she had someone else to compare with the DNA she had from Hannah and her son's clothes. She had found a few interesting things on the statue, too, but the trouble was that without anyone to match them to, they were useless.

She needed Gibbs and the others to bring her more, but then she had lots from the trailer that were _more._ She had hours and hours worth of work.

So did Bishop, obviously, because the boxes from Dunn's house were still stacked around the floor and the papers spread out in front of her and Jake. Abby reached into her pocket and took out her phone, snapping a picture with a smile. That was too adorable, the way they'd fallen asleep leaning against each other.

She pocketed the phone again and left, deciding not to wake them by rattling the evidence cage. She could come back later, and Gibbs had to be upstairs by now. He should have come into her lab—he probably had when she was gone.

She went to the elevator, pushing the button to go up to the main level.

When the elevator doors opened, she stepped out, frowning at the empty desk across from McGee. “No Gibbs?”

McGee jerked his head up from his desk, frowning. Someone else had fallen asleep at work. “What?”

“I was just asking about Gibbs.”

“I think he was downstairs with Ducky,” McGee said. “Though... that was last night.”

She frowned. “I don't understand. Normally when I have something to tell Gibbs, he's right there, all over the lab staring or squinting...”

“Case is personal for Gibbs, and when things get personal, Gibbs gets weird,” Tony said, dropping his stuff off by his desk. “What have you got for us, Abs?”

“Besides a very adorable picture of Jake and Ellie asleep downstairs?” Abby asked, getting a look from Tony. “It's more what I _don't_ have that's of interest.”

McGee frowned. “Um, Abby, I know I didn't get enough sleep last night—”

“No one did,” Gibbs muttered as he came into the office followed by Fornell. “Go on, Abby. What do you have?”

“Um...” She shook off the moment, regaining her composure. She had been waiting for this, after all. She had information to give out. “Right. As I was just telling McGee, it is more about what isn't there than what is.”

“And that would be?” Fornell asked, grumpier than McGee.

“Well, first of all, Dunn's DNA wasn't anywhere in the evidence from Hannah Myerson or her son. He actually was a good enough agent to wear gloves and prevent any transfer from happening. He was not involved in the murder,” Abby said, smiling. She saw she'd failed to impress the others, so she rolled her eyes. She'd taken away any motive Gibbs might have had—and the one Ben might have had—not that any of them wanted to believe that Ben was a killer—for killing Dunn.

“That doesn't tell us who did it.”

“I also managed to eliminate both the officers who did the notification,” Abby said, folding her arms over her chest. “Since the other DNA belonged to Hannah and her son, what's left behind is from her killer.”

“I don't think that's the smoking gun they were hoping for, Abs.”

“We don't have a smoking gun. We have an unregistered twenty-two that was used to kill Dunn. Ballistics match it to the bullets Ducky got from the body, but it was wiped clean and the serial number was filed off,” Abby said. “I may be able to get the number back, but what you really want to hear is that our killer was sloppy enough to leave DNA behind inside the gun.”

“So we have him,” Fornell said, but she had to shake her head.

“No, we have DNA. It so far is only a match in one sense.”

“Hannah's killer.”

“Who is not on file for anything else,” Abby said. “Still, if you get me DNA, I can get you the person behind two murders.”

* * *

_“Fairy tales are stupid. Why do girls like them so much?”_

_Gibbs laughed, watching Ben kick the dirt in frustration. “That's not a real fairy tale. That's the Disney version of it.”_

_“There's another one? That makes it worse.”_

_“Grimm's fairy tales are pretty dark,” Gibbs told him. “You won't like them, either, but for a different reason. Not many happy endings there.”_

_Ben shrugged. “As long as I'm not stuck being the prince, I don't care.”_

_“Which one of them was wearing makeup? Kelly or Maddie?” Gibbs demanded. They were both way too damned young for that. “Or was it both of them?”_

_"What?"_

_“Lipstick on your cheek.”_

_Ben flushed red, rubbing at it. “I thought I got it all off. Ew.”_

* * *

“I may have something that will help with that,” DiNozzo said. “And Boss, I know you're not going to be happy about this, but hear me out a little because I think we could use a little help. Maybe even a lot of help with this case, but since most of the people connected to Hannah's death are now dead, we're running short on—”

“DiNozzo,” Gibbs said in warning, but it was already too late.

“I spoke to Maddie Tyler,” DiNozzo said. “She was coming to town this week anyway for some kind of award ceremony—apparently a very big deal in her field—and she said she'd like to help.”

“Should have left her out of this,” Gibbs said. He didn't want Maddie involved. People connected to this case were dying, and he didn't want her at risk. She'd been a kid when it happened, and she shouldn't have to relive what was for all of them a nightmare.

“Maddie's one of few people we can actually talk to about the time before Hannah Myerson's death,” McGee said. “You were deployed, your wife and daughter are dead, Kristin Stone is dead, Hannah, the two officers who found her, and the family lawyer. Maddie is the only one besides Ben that we have left, and we can't find Ben.”

“We will,” Gibbs said. They had to have been getting close for someone to kill twice in as little days. Their visit to the law firm had someone scared. Gibbs didn't know yet if that someone was in Hannah's family or not. Walker's death pointed that way, but wasn't definite proof.

And Ducky had yet to prove that a murder like he should have.

The elevator dinged, and Gibbs turned to confront him about it. Only the passenger was not the medical examiner.

“That was fast,” DiNozzo said. “I thought you said your flight wasn't for a day or two.”

“I had it changed,” Maddie answered, shifting a large bag on her shoulder. “Hi, Gibbs.”

“Congratulations on the award,” Abby told her. “Though I don't know what it is.”

“It's a science fellowship,” Maddie answered. “Only a handful of people qualify. They're putting us up in a hotel, and there's going to be a whole presentation dinner.”

“If we're invited, we are so coming,” Abby told her. “Though I suppose you probably don't want us there because you barely know us.”

“No, not at all,” Maddie said, smiling. “I do kind of owe all of you my life. Gibbs made the exchange, Tony got us out of the water, but I know you were the one that told Tony where to find us, so I guess this award is as much yours as it is mine. Except yours. I'm afraid we've never met.”

“Tobias Fornell,” he said, offering a hand to her. “FBI. I hear you might be able to help us with our case.”

“I don't know that I remember all that much,” Maddie began. She frowned. “There was another agent who helped last time, right? Where is she?”

“No longer with NCIS,” DiNozzo answered. He looked toward the elevator. “That might actually be her replacement. Think you'll like her.”

DiNozzo was right. Bishop had just come out of the elevator with her husband. Both of them looked like they'd had a rough night with little or no sleep. Her hair was a mess, and his clothes were in worse shape than the day before.

“It requires pancakes,” Bishop insisted, carrying on some sort of debate they'd been having in the elevator. “They're perfect, as a breakfast food, when we're talking about stacks and flipping through papers. The connection is obvious.”

Malloy shook his head, a teasing smile on his face. “You could make the same argument for other things. Waffles. Eggs. French toast. Hamburgers. Cheeseburgers—”

“Stop it. You're only making it worse making me hungrier,” Bishop said, getting a shrug from her husband. She faced the rest of them awkwardly. “Morning, everyone. We were just discussing getting breakfast. I need pancakes. And maybe a burger.”

“Bishop's a bottomless pit,” DiNozzo told Maddie. “Don't let it throw you. She's good even if her eating habits defy nature.”

“Very funny, Tony,” Bishop said, rolling her eyes. “It's not like I only eat processed or artificial food. I just have a weakness for certain snacks and the way they jumpstart my brain for analysis.”

“And chocolate. Very big weakness for chocolate,” Malloy added, still teasing.

She rolled her eyes and then held out a hand to Maddie. “I'm Ellie Bishop. This is—”

“Ben?” Maddie pushed past DiNozzo and McGee, bumping Bishop as she and got up next to Malloy, who frowned at her. “Wow—I—those eyes sure haven't changed, have they? I mean, after the glasses, that seemed to be all anyone saw, but if Kelly got mad at you and knocked them off, we'd all get reminded of just how intense they were. Kelly used to say they were like the sky itself was looking at you.”

Malloy swallowed. “I... You... You knew Gibbs' daughter?”

“I knew both of you,” Maddie said, frowning herself, hurt. “You... don't remember me? I wouldn't have thought you could forget. I never did. First you, then Kelly...”

“Wait,” DiNozzo said, holding up a hand. “Why—You think he's Ben?”

“You said you were looking into his case,” Maddie said, looking at all of them in confusion. “You found him, didn't you? He's right here.”


	8. Startling Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maddie gives evidence in the case. Gibbs pursues another angle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There were two possible plot lines with this story, which I think can be guessed. They have variations, of course, but it was a choice of which of the two major paths that was the hardest to make. In the end, I think this one had to be it.
> 
> I could be wrong about it, though the scene with Gibbs kind of demanded to be written.

* * *

Maddie's words made Jake back up, bumping his wife as he did. He shook his head, and Tony figured he wasn't far from running. He had that panicked look in his eyes, and they kept going toward the door. He wanted out of here, and Tony figured they all knew why.

Jake Malloy was Ben Myerson.

And Gibbs had to have known.

“If you knew where Ben was the entire time, why didn't you say so?” McGee asked, looking over at Gibbs. “Why have us search for someone who was with you the entire time?”

Jake shook his head. “No... It's not—I don't—You're wrong. I... There is some kind of resemblance, I guess—”

“You guess?” Tony asked, snorting. “Maddie here sees it, and Dunn did, too. It's why he almost attacked you when you and Gibbs spoke to him.”

“I didn't even _know_ about it before then,” Jake insisted. He looked over at his wife, desperate. “I'm not lying. Please don't—”

“Malloy didn't know. Not before Dunn's accusations,” Gibbs said, and Tony shook his head. That was still over a day ago, and it wasn't like Gibbs hadn't known. It all made sense now. The BFFs. The fact that Gibbs talked to Jake, period. He had identified with Jake the way he did with Maddie. Maddie stood in for Kelly, and Jake had become Ben.

“Still, that's three people who picked up on this resemblance after twenty years,” McGee said. “Are you sure there's no way that you—”

“McGee, I have a family.”

“One with money,” Tony said, knowing that they probably had enough money to pay that lawyer and lock up the adoption, too, “and Ben was adopted. We don't know who to yet. There any particular reason it couldn't have been your family?”

Jake gagged, but he didn't puke. “You all believe I'm Ben now, don't you? I'd have to go proving who I was and that I don't—”

“Jake,” Bishop began, biting her lip. “Last night, when you asked me—”

“Oh, hell. What day is it?” Malloy asked, pulling out his phone and checking it. “I was supposed to be in a meeting at the NSA an hour ago. I can't do this now. I have to change and they are going to send me overseas for this if I don't end up fired—damn it.”

“Jake,” Bishop said, following after her husband as he went toward the elevator. None of the rest of them moved to stop him. Tony figured if someone was going to ask Jake about it, it may as well be his wife, since she was the one who actually pushed him to panic like that.

“We think that was real?” Fornell asked, and Gibbs shrugged.

“He did say he was probably going to be sent on a classified assignment,” Gibbs answered. “Didn't sound like he wanted to go.”

“I'm sorry,” Maddie said, shaking her head. “I didn't mean to cause problems. I just thought that he was Ben, and I didn't stop myself. It's just... The eyes...”

“It's not your fault,” Abby told her. “Gibbs saw it, too.”

“He just didn't tell us,” Tony said, giving his boss a glare. He didn't understand why Gibbs couldn't just have admitted this from the beginning. Maybe not when he first met Jake, but at the start of the case, yeah. They should have been told.

Gibbs started to leave the room, and Fornell frowned. “Where the hell do you think you're going?”

“To get some answers.”

* * *

_“Did you ever want to pretend you were someone else?”_

_Gibbs looked over at Ben, frowning. “I thought I said to hand me the wrench.”_

_Ben did, passing him the wrong size and type. Gibbs shook his head, pulling out from under the hood. He went to the tools and picked up the right one._

_“This is a five-eighths,” he said. “Box end. You handed me a nine-sixteenth—”_

_“With the circle end,” Ben finished. He lowered his head. “I'm sorry, Gibbs. I didn't mean to mess it up.”_

_Gibbs started adjusting the bolt. His gut didn't like that question very much. At first it just seemed like the kid was musing the way they all did, but now, he thought there was more to it. “What is it, Ben? What makes you wish you were someone else?”_

_Ben fiddled with his glasses and didn't answer._

* * *

“You didn't tell me.”

Jake stopped, leaning his head against the car, and Ellie finished the distance between them, putting her hand on his arm. The hardest part of this wasn't hearing that he resembled Ben. It was that he'd known and hadn't said anything to her.

“I thought we said we were going to change things,” she said, shaking her head. “We were going to talk to each other again, remember?”

“Like you have really done that since you blackmailed me into giving up Korkmaz' drive,” Jake said, shaking his head. “No, Ellie, we haven't talked, and before you start to blame me again, it wasn't all me. I have held back a few things—that they want to send me overseas and this... resemblance. That's it. When Gibbs started this investigation, I honestly didn't know why he was pulling me along. I was worried, though, so I did go. And he said we'd have something to talk about, you and me...”

“Only we really didn't,” Ellie said, frustrated. “You still kept things from me when we were apparently working the same case.”

“Because I didn't want it to be real,” Jake said, looking at her in desperation. “It can't be. Gibbs showed me a picture, and yes, I could have been that kid, but so could hundreds of others. And I found out when Dunn was accusing Ben—me—of killing his mother and Kristin Stone. I... I didn't want that to be true, even if Gibbs insisted Ben hadn't done it.”

Ellie sighed. “Still, this is what you meant when you asked if it was possible you could know something about Ben's case.”

“I remember my mother,” Jake said. “She's... impossible to forget, really. I can't... I don't remember anything of being Ben, not besides those dreams, but then the other stuff... The law firm. The family with money... I think there are other little pieces Gibbs left out because I'll catch him looking at me and sometimes I think _he_ thinks I'm Ben, and not just because of some passing resemblance.”

“Jake,” she began, not sure how to handle this. He wanted her to tell him it wasn't true, but short of a DNA test, she couldn't do that. She didn't know. “I know that no matter what is in your past, you are a good person. You always have been. You could have let the money you were raised with corrupt you, but you didn't. You saved up for this car, remember?”

He nodded, looking at her. “Ellie, if... If for some reason I wasn't...”

“Oh, you idiot,” she said, pulling him into her arms again. “Yes, I'd still love you. Yes, we have problems, but that doesn't mean either of us ever stopped loving each other. We haven't fixed things, but we haven't let go, either. We're still trying. And even if you had a different name when you were born, it wouldn't matter. I fell in love with the man you are now.”

He held onto her, shaking his head. “I don't know. You fight a lot with the man I am now.”

“Because I want more from you, not less,” Ellie told him. “We should probably get you to that meeting at the NSA now.”

He tensed. “Damn it.”

“What, that wasn't a lie, was it?”

“No, I just...” Jake sighed. “I don't know that I can do this. I can't go in there and pretend I'm fine because I'm not. It's driving me crazy, thinking I might be Ben, and it makes me sick, and I don't want to know but I _have_ to know.”

Ellie nodded. “Well, if I know my team... Abby's already taking care of that test for you.”

Jake winced.

* * *

_“I told you—no more princess. Just leave me alone and go play your stupid game somewhere else,” Ben said, and Shannon actually jerked when he slammed the door. Gibbs frowned. Shannon wasn't usually the nervous sort, but then Ben wasn't usually the angry type, either._

_“What was that?” Shannon asked, frowning._

_Ben looked back from the door. “Nothing.”_

_Gibbs shook his head. “Lying. Slamming doors. Yelling. None of that is nothing.”_

_“I think I should see if my mom is home,” Ben said, and Shannon watched him, still giving him that look of concern._

_“He been like that a lot?”_

_“Angry, no,” Shannon said, “but something's been different with him ever since Kristin died. You were right to have me watch him, but I don't know what we're going to do about it. I don't even know what's wrong. He still won't tell me.”_

* * *

“I really didn't mean to cause a problem,” Maddie repeated, and Tim forced a smile for her, knowing she wasn't to blame for any of this. Gibbs was. It wasn't that he shouldn't have brought them Hannah's case, but he should have told them about Jake's possible connection. And if he hadn't, then Jake should have.

Jake hadn't even told Bishop, though, so that was just going to make things worse.

“You didn't cause a problem,” McGee assured her. “You gave us a huge break in the case. The pictures of Ben were missing, and we didn't even know what he looked like. Not besides Gibbs.”

“Oh, yeah, Tony mentioned that,” Maddie said, digging into her bag and pulling out a photo album. “I did manage to track this down before I left. I thought it was in storage with all my parents' stuff, but I must have mixed it in with mine. I have another that's just me and Kelly, but this one...”

She flipped it open, turning pages until she got a quarter into the book. “Here it is. This is the annual base barbeque. We were all there. See? There's Gibbs and his wife—”

“Oh, they look so happy,” Abby said. “Gibbs is smiling.”

“Yeah,” McGee agreed, looking over the page. “Is this you and Kelly?”

Maddie nodded. “That's us there, and this one here is the three of us. Ben's the one on the left, in case you couldn't guess. He had a thing about being photographed in his glasses. Hated it, so he's frowning there because Shannon took it without giving him a chance to take them off.”

“I kind of wish Bishop was here so we could ask her if Jake's childhood photos look like that. Hair's about the same, but Maddie's right about the eyes,” Tim said, shaking his head. “I think if we did do age progression on it, we'd get someone that looked a lot like Jake.”

“Here's a few more,” Maddie said, turning the page again.

“Hannah in here at all?”

“No, Ben's mother never made it to any of the functions. He was actually there with the Stones, I think, but he found his way over to us fast enough,” Maddie said, frowning slightly as she turned the page. “I don't remember this one. I can see me and Kelly playing here, but who is Ben talking to there?”

“Let me see if I can find out more,” Abby said, and Maddie nodded, giving her the picture. Tony caught Abby's attention over Maddie's head, and she nodded. Tim had a feeling she'd also be doing a DNA test while she was down in her lab.

“So,” Tony began, pulling Maddie's attention back to him. “What do you remember about Kristin's death?”

Maddie frowned. “Not much. We weren't that close. My dad and Gibbs both hated Bruce. He hadn't done anything wrong, but he rubbed them both the wrong way, so we didn't do a lot with them. Shannon and Kristin spoke, but Kristin was closer to Hannah.”

“That was possible?” Tim asked. “I thought she worked all the time.”

Maddie shrugged. “I don't know why. I just know that Hannah was having Kristin do more and more of the stuff for Ben before she died. Ben wasn't very happy about it, but he never said so. He just... never seemed to want to go there. I think it was fine when it was a once in a while thing because Shannon was busy, but when his dad when MIA and his mom sent him there all the time, he started hating going there.”

Tony frowned. “You're sure? No one else mentioned this.”

“Ben wasn't exactly the kind of kid that opened up to anyone,” Maddie said. “His mom had all these secrets, and she told him not to tell people a lot of stuff, especially about the money. Shannon was convinced the kids at school were bullying him. She kept asking us about it, but we were in a different grade. We never saw it. Ben wouldn't tell anyone who they were, either.”

“Was he scared of retaliation?”

“Or were there no bullies at all?” Tony asked, and Maddie frowned at him. Tim tried not to wince. He had a feeling he knew where Tony was going with that. “Never mind. How was he after Kristin's death? Did he relax, seem happier now that he was back with the Gibbs most of the time?”

Maddie thought about that. “Um... no, actually. Kelly said they kept finding him in front of the tv, like he'd fallen asleep there after being up all night, and he seemed to take those times when we didn't want him in our 'girl' games hard. Then there was that weird thing with the kiss...”

“Weird thing with the kiss?”

Maddie blushed. “Well, we used to drag Ben into playing princess with us sometimes. Ben was always the prince. I know it was my fault he wasn't doing it as much when we got older because... he'd gotten glasses, and princes are supposed to be perfect. No glasses.”

Tim grimaced. “So Ben tried to make himself the perfect prince again?”

“No,” she said, rubbing her hands over her arms. “Kelly was being sleeping beauty, and he was supposed to wake her, but he shook her instead of kissing her. I made him do it over, and he kissed her forehead. So then she caught his shirt and showed him what he should have done—kissed her right on the mouth, and he... He pulled away from her and ran. He refused to play with us after that.”

Tim looked over at Tony. The other man swallowed, and Tim figured they were having the same thought, the one none of them wanted to be true.

“Ben have a problem doing the kiss before?”

Maddie shook her head. “We thought it was weird, but Ben just kept saying he wouldn't play that game anymore, so we left him out of it. It was just a game.”

Tony nodded, but Tim didn't think he was convinced.

* * *

_“If Ben is like my brother, does that make Maddie my sister?”_

_Gibbs looked down at his daughter. “This a school assignment?”_

_She nodded. “We're supposed to make our family tree. I was going to put Ben on mine. I should put Maddie, too.”_

_Gibbs didn't know how her teacher would react to that, he nodded. Kelly's family was different, and it wasn't just about blood. Ben was theirs, and Maddie was close to it, even if she had much better parents. They were family._

* * *

“Agent Gibbs. I knew you'd be back.”

“Of course you did,” Gibbs said, following Constance back into her study. “You lied to me.”

“You asked me if I knew a Hannah who had gotten herself in trouble. I didn't,” Constance said, taking her seat in her chair. “And you asked me if I knew of someone who ran off with a marine and got pregnant. I didn't.”

“You knew both those things. You know who Hannah was. And you lied about it,” Gibbs snapped, losing his patience. “Hannah was your sister, wasn't she?”

Constance leveled a gaze at him. “I am supposed to say I never had a sister, but I know that is something you can disprove easily enough. Still, that is what my father would have expected me to say. Frannie never existed to him after her marriage. She as good as died then, and could he have erased her from existence, he would have.”

“Frannie? Your sister's name was Hannah.”

“No, her name was Francis. Like his,” Constance insisted. “I can see where she would have wanted to change it, but her name was not Hannah. Not to me.”

“You still lied.”

“No, I gave you a carefully considered omission,” Constance corrected, sounding very much like her son. “My sister's name was Francis, and he was not a marine when she married him. All of that was true. If you check his records, you should find he had quit when he thought he was going to be a millionaire, but he reenlisted when he found out he wouldn't get a cent from my father.”

“Technicalities.”

She smiled. “Yes, but life is very rarely black and white, as I am sure you already know. How thin a line is it between murder and killing for your country? Soldiers are commended for acts that would have them arrested at home. We are all defined by the small lines we make for ourselves, each small choice determines what we are to become.”

“And Hannah's choice determined she was going to end up dead?”

Constance snorted. “Perhaps if her husband had killed her, but if you've come here to accuse my family of having her murdered, you will be disappointed. Frannie was dead to my father, but that doesn't mean he thought nothing of killing her. It just meant he'd already washed his hands of her. He didn't need to kill her.”

Gibbs watched the woman, studying her. She'd managed to toe the line with her technicalities, not quite setting his gut off enough for him to confront her the day before, but after Maddie pegged Malloy as Ben, he knew. “Your sister was only dead to him, though.”

“Oh, she was to my mother as well because my mother was the dutiful sort who went blindly along with whatever her husband said,” Constance told him. “Though the answer to your question is... yes. I was still in contact with my sister.”

“He'd as much as exiled you to Europe for your marriage. Why did she think she could do as she pleased?”

“He spoiled Frannie rotten. She was his favorite,” Constance said. “It wasn't just that she was named after him. She was just... one of those girls. The ones who had everything. Charm, beauty, money. She was perfect. I was opinionated. She figured she had Daddy around her finger and he'd see it her way when she said she was giving him a grandson.”

“Only he didn't.”

“Oh, he was furious. Cut her off without a cent.” Constance looked at her wrist, at the bracelet there. “She called me after it happened, and I told her she should have known better. She got angry with me and hung up. I didn't hear from her for almost a year after that.”

Gibbs sat down, needing to rest his knee. She was taking her time telling this story, and he supposed he could have left—he'd already gotten the most important answer he needed, but he had a lot more than the one question to ask. “She wanted money?”

“She was desperate for it. She and her husband bought things expecting her inheritance, and without it, they were drowning in debt. He'd gone back to the marines, but his income barely covered their current bills,” Constance answered. “Frannie had a harsh wake up call there, especially since I had to remind her—I didn't have any money of my own, either.”

“So you didn't help her.”

“I didn't say that.” Constance rose, going to the window. “Jonathon and I discussed it. He was willing to help, but he was afraid that if we gave them any kind of lump sum, it either wouldn't go to the bills or that her husband would think he could get another one. So we settled on a thousand dollars a month that Frannie knew would end if she used it for anything but the debt or her son.”

“That was a drop in the bucket compared to her debt.”

Constance looked back from the window. “Would you have paid it all off for her? I loved my sister, and I didn't want her son suffering, but I also knew her. If she was given another out, she'd just repeat history all over again. A thousand dollars a month was still no small amount of money, but I think you know as well as I do that she didn't manage it that well, or she would not have still been in debt when she died. Do the math. We gave her ninety-six thousand dollars over a course of eight years, not counting the little extras I sent for holidays and birthdays. She should not have had any debt hanging over her by the time she died. Yet she did. I fear her financial situation would only have been worse had we given her more money.”

Gibbs grunted. “Ben sure didn't seem to see any of that money. She didn't even want to pay for his glasses, and the kid was going blind without them.”

Constance shook her head. “Don't try and make me the villain here, Gibbs. I gave Frannie two thousand when she said the boy needed help with his eyes. Don't ask me what the hell she did with it. I don't know.”

He'd pushed her far enough to make her lose her composure. “You never thought of taking the boy away from her?”

“Tell me,” she said. “Why didn't you? You saw first hand how my sister neglected her son. You were there. Your wife was his caregiver. Why did you hold back when you could have intervened?”

“She worked all the time. No proof she was doing anything but trying to pay her bills and that was why she was never home.”

Constance laughed. “You believed that?”

“I'm looking at you. You would have done it.”

“Yes,” Constance said. “I would have, but my sister and I were very different people. She had everything handed to her and never thought that would stop. I knew I had to choose whether I wanted that to continue or was willing to give it up. I wasn't. So I found a way of keeping it, and I don't regret what I did—I may have picked Jonathon based on his income bracket, but we actually do love each other, whatever else you may think of me.”

“I think you're a woman that gets what she wants.”

“And I wanted my sister's son enough to kill her for him? You amuse me,” Constance said, coming back from the window. “Frannie couldn't cope when her husband went MIA, and she kept saying she should just send the boy to me. I could have had him without killing her.”

Gibbs watched her, waiting for the lie, but he didn't any sign of it. “She was willing to give Ben to you just like that?”

Constance sat down again, this time across from him. “I think Frannie was tired of fooling herself. I think both she and her husband believed that after enough time passed, my father would forgive her and take her back. It never happened, and maybe she thought that giving her son away would change that. Maybe she just wanted to be free of motherhood to start over. I don't know. I didn't ask. I might never have forgiven her if I had.”

Gibbs nodded. “What happened when she died?”

“My husband and I were in France when we got the call. Bradford Billington had been informed of Frannie's death. I'm not sure if that was her doing or my father's. I never asked. I just know that he acted on my father's orders, moving the boy from California to a private rest home. He wasn't expected to live.” Constance stopped, putting a hand to her mouth as her eyes brightened. She shook her head. “I got on a plane that night, much to Jonathon's dismay because I left him alone with our two year old. I just remember thinking I wasn't about to let Frannie's son die alone. Jono had his father. He was fine.”

“Ben didn't die, though.”

She studied her hands. “He woke on the third day I was there, screaming. It was the most awful sound I have ever heard in my life.”

* * *

_“This place never changes, does it?”_

_Shannon snorted, shaking her head at Gibbs. “That's a bit naïve of you to think.”_

_He shrugged, looking around the neighborhood again. The houses all looked the same as when he'd deployed. The trees, the lawns, everything. This place was like a time capsule. “I like it the same.”_

_“I'm sure it makes you think you haven't missed anything.”_

_“Are you saying I did?”_

_“Nothing major,” she told him. “Just a bit of everyone growing up, I suppose.”_

* * *

“Tell us more about the time after Kristin died,” Tony said, and McGee frowned at him. He almost rolled his eyes. Until Gibbs came back or Fornell had a new order for them, this was their best lead, and he was going to pursue it as long as he could. If Maddie could handle talking about it, they needed her to do it.

She was their only living witness besides Ben, and if Jake was Ben, he didn't seem to remember what happened to his mother. Maddie might be the only one who had the answers they needed.

“Was there anyone suspicious around?”

“Like some kind of creepy man?” Maddie shook her head. “We never saw anyone, and we would have. Kelly was like her dad, always spotted that kind of thing. We made games of stray animals or weird stuff people threw away. I don't remember anyone hanging around the base that didn't belong there. We all knew each other or knew someone who knew them.”

Tony nodded. “What about the Stone house? Anyone new move in there after Kristin died?”

“No,” Maddie said, frowning. “They let him keep it, which was kind of weird in a way because they didn't have kids. He was alone after that. He could have gone back to the barracks, especially since he made a big deal of feeling lonely after Kristin died.”

“He didn't date anyone after she died?”

“No.”

“But Ben stopped going over there.”

Maddie shook her head. “Actually, he didn't. I think Hannah felt sorry for him, and since she wasn't home much anyway, she sent Ben over to stay with him a lot.”

Tony frowned. “I thought Bruce was deployed when his wife died.”

“He was, but they gave him leave because he lost his wife. He was home for a while.” Maddie shrugged. “He was a nice enough guy, I guess, but mostly Kelly and I made fun of him because our dads really disliked him.”

“We are missing something here,” Tony said, frustrated. He knew they were close, but something was still holding them back. He was going to have to ask the question he really, really didn't want to ask. “Maddie, was there any sign that Ben was being... abused?”

“By his mom? Hannah was never home enough to hurt him, though... that is kind of abuse in of itself. Looking back on it now that I'm older, I think he was desperate to be somewhere permanent instead of bouncing from house to house. He really loved the Gibbs, and I think he saw them as his parents more than the ones he had. I didn't get any sense that Hannah hurt him.”

McGee winced. “It might not have been physical abuse. And by that, I don't mean the neglect.”

Maddie gagged. “You think someone molested Ben? Why would you think that? Because his mother died? That's sick.”

“We need to rule out the possibility,” Tony said. “Other than that incident with the kiss, did Ben show anything that you think now might have shown he was being abused?”

“I... I don't know,” Maddie said. “He definitely never told either of us he'd been hurt or that he'd been touched inappropriately. Not once. Still, we all thought he was being bullied at school and wasn't talking about it, so... kind of, yeah, but no all at the same time.”

Tony nodded. “Thank you, Maddie. I know that was a hard question to have to hear. I didn't want to ask it, but we do need to try and rule it out.”

She sighed. “Only we didn't, did we?”

* * *

_“You should be sleeping.”_

_Shannon shrugged, looking down at Kelly in her bed. “Was it just that one was enough?”_

_Gibbs frowned. “What are you talking about?”_

_“Us. Kelly. Kids.” Shannon shook her head. “I was thinking about it, and I know it sounds horrible, but did we... did we stop at one, at her, because of Ben? Was it because I took care of him all the time and was worried—in a way I never admitted to myself—that I couldn't handle taking on another? Did I say no to more in my mind because we had him? He needs us. He has since day one.”_

_“You could handle a platoon. I've seen you do it before,” Gibbs told her, taking her into his arms. “Don't care if we have one or fifty. What we have is good. Stop second guessing yourself. If we had another, we'd love it like we do him. If we never do, we were lucky enough to have Kelly.”_

_“And Ben.”_

_"And Ben," Gibbs agreed._

* * *

“So Ben was awake. After he stopped screaming, how did he take finding himself in a room full of strangers?”

Constance looked at Gibbs, understanding on her face as she spoke. “That question has tormented you for years, hasn't it? The idea of him waking up alone, scared, with no one he knew to comfort him... What do you think you could have done if you were there?”

“Made sure he didn't feel alone.”

“He wasn't alone,” Constance said. “Though... You're assuming too much. After he stopped screaming, he slipped back into the coma. The doctors were of mixed opinions. Some thought he would still die. Others thought he'd recover. I persuaded Jonathon to move back to the states. We bought a home and took him to it. He was in private care there for the next seven months.”

Gibbs could believe all that, though it bothered him that Ben had been in the coma for that long. “Then what?”

“Jono went into his room. He knew he wasn't allowed in there, but he was a toddler, and at that age when he was going to defy every order he was given. Somehow he climbed up on the bed. One way or another, he managed to wake him. That time, he stayed awake.” 

“How did your father react to all of that?”

“He was livid,” Constance said, though she smiled at the memory. “I think he planned on letting the boy die forgotten and alone in that rest home, but I refused to let that happen. I knew... When I walked into that hospital and looked down at him, took his hand... I knew I was never letting go. He is my son.”

Gibbs snorted. “You have an interesting definition of that. You don't even call him by name when you talk about him. It was 'the boy' or 'her son.' You might not have realized you were saying it, but I sure as hell did.”

Constance shook her head. “You don't understand what it was like for him. He had horrific nightmares, but he could never remember them. He was scared of the shadows, of everything. He couldn't remember what happened before, but he was terrified of it. He wouldn't eat, and I'd find him hiding in the strangest places after almost going insane with worry. I was afraid he was going to hurt himself.”

“So what did you do?”

“I didn't lock him up in a psych ward like your question suggests,” she snapped, eyes darkening in anger as she faced him. “We... In the end, it seemed like the psychiatrist’s suggestion was the best for everyone. He said... He thought it was unlikely that the boy would ever remember what happened to him and his mother that night. Effectively, the part of him that was Ben had died with her and we should start over.”

Gibbs balled up his hand into a fist. “He told you to make Ben forget completely?”

“For the sake of his mental health, yes,” she said, rising again. “He was a doctor with an impeccable reputation. He was a leader in his field. I didn't think we had any reason to doubt what he was telling us. It seemed like the right thing for the boy.”

“Again with 'the boy.'”

She started to pace. “When we adopted him, we gave him the name Jakob Benjamin Malloy, figuring he'd be able to use his middle name if he still insisted on being Ben. With the psychiatrist’s recommendation, we started calling him Jake, gave him memories that were Jake's, no one else's. As far as I was concerned, he was already my son. Jono was too young to remember a time without Jake. He has always loved him like a brother, and Jake has always felt the same. My husband was a little standoffish at first, but Jake won him over. He won his grandmother over, and like I said, he'd almost persuaded my father to make him his heir despite everything when he as much as threw it away marrying Elanor.”

“But all of that was a lie.”

“Not to Jake, and not like you think,” she insisted, knocking some of her hair out of its perfect french twist. “Jake was able to sleep at night. He likes to eat—he can be very picky about what he eats. He never hid unless he was playing hide-n-go-seek with his brother. Jono adores him—they're still quite close. He was happy. He was such a happy, bright child. Shy, but if you got him talking, you just loved him. Like Irene did. She was a pill and a half, but she saw something in him. You were right—she would have broken her code for him. No one else, but he got to her. I don't even know how he does it. He's not aware of it. It's so awkward for him with people, always has been, but he is special.”

Gibbs didn't even want to think about how the woman did it, split the two like they were different people when in reality, they weren't. She seemed to use it as much as her coping mechanism as her son's. “Did you have Irene killed so we wouldn't find out who Jake really is?”

Constance glared at him. “Jake is my son. Nothing changes that. And no, I didn't kill her, which you should already know. I was with you all that afternoon. I didn't arrange for it to happen, either.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

She nodded. “I do. Not only because it's the truth but because you already knew. Did you think I didn't recognize the name? Leroy Jethro Gibbs is not a name someone forgets. Especially not when I'd heard 'Gibbs' screamed by a boy in terror. I paid for a detective, yes, but not to get my sister's son. To make sure you weren't the one who'd killed her.”

“I was deployed.”

“I know that,” Constance said. “I also know how much you and your wife took care of him when he was with my sister, and I even considered giving him to you when he was at his worst. I thought the familiar might help, but... Hernandez killed your wife and daughter. You were in no state to take care of anyone, not even yourself then. And to put my little boy back into a situation like that—no. Jake was mine and I was keeping him, even if it meant having him forget one of the only good parts of his early years.”

Gibbs shook his head. “You can't expect that not to have consequences.”

“You think I'm unaware of them? Jake's migraines are very likely tied to that same night. He's had them all his life.” She stopped by the fireplace, putting her hand on the mantle. “I know that with my hovering, I must have seemed smothering, like I thought he was incapable of functioning on his own, but you have to understand, I've been afraid of this for more than twenty years.”

“That he'd remember?” Gibbs demanded. “Did you ever think maybe he should have? The man who killed his mother is still out there, and he very likely killed the NIS agent who investigated her death _and_ Irene Walker.”

“Of course I thought about it.” She turned back from the fireplace, anger sending tension through her. “It was never about letting my sister's killer go free. It was about saving my son.”

“And yet you may have condemned him.”

* * *

_“Look at you,” Shannon said, patting Ben on the cheek. “So handsome.”_

_He blushed, and the girls giggled. Gibbs rolled his eyes. He knew what she was doing, making a fuss over him. This was his first day in a new grade—and with his glasses. She wanted him to feel good about how he looked._

_“Looking good,” Gibbs told him. “Now get your butt to class.”_

_Ben rushed off, and Shannon reached over to smack Gibbs. “I wanted to get pictures.”_

_Gibbs shrugged. “You'll have another chance. He's not going anywhere.”_

* * *

“Are you really sure you want to change? I thought you were already late enough and—”

“Showing up like this will only make it worse,” Jake said, tugging on his shirt. “I think it's obvious I slept in it, and this isn't even acceptable for casual Fridays.”

“The NSA doesn't have casual Fridays,” Ellie said, unlocking the door to their apartment. She pushed it open and waited for him to pass before shutting it behind them. “Though I suppose you're right. You look... a bit like you went from lawyer to junkie in less than a day.”

Jake shook his head. “I think I feel as jittery as a junkie might, but I'm not that bad. I'm going to go rinse off really quick, and then I'll head out again. I definitely get the shower first.”

She nodded. “All I have to look forward to is more time with file boxes, so no rush here. I'm going to make some coffee, and you can take a cup with you when you leave.”

“Thanks,” he said, kissing her cheek before going to the bedroom to gather a few things. He found a suit fresh from the dry cleaner's and grabbed socks and a change of undergarments from the dresser before going into the bathroom. He hung the suit on the back of the door before starting the water. He set his glasses on the counter with his socks. He stripped quickly, stepping into the shower. He couldn't let it get cold again like last time, but he knew he had to try and wash part of last night and this morning off.

He had a sick feeling in his stomach that wouldn't quit. He knew he might feel better after Abby's DNA test, but what if that made it all worse?

He shook his head, turning off the water and grabbing a towel. He started drying off, pulling on a plain white t-shirt for under the suit and then his boxers, putting on his suit pants afterward. He took the dress shirt off the hanger and pulled it over his shoulders.

“Ellie, next time remind me not to leave my glasses in the bathroom,” he said, wiping them off in disgust before putting them on. He started buttoning his shirt and frowned. “Ellie?”

She should have heard him. It was strange that she hadn't answered. He left off with the buttons, going straight to the kitchen. He didn't see her, but then his glasses were still kind of foggy, so that wasn't much help. “Ellie?”

He heard a moan and rounded the counter. He dropped down to his knees, swallowing and trying to understand. This couldn't be happening. He'd been in the shower for less than five minutes, but there was blood all over the floor. “Oh, God, Ellie...”

She tried to move, her hand going to the wound in her shoulder. He grabbed a towel off the counter and put it there. He didn't believe this. It wasn't like Ellie would have shot herself, and her gun was still in its holster.

He reached for her cellphone, dialing the emergency number with shaking hands.

“Jake,” she whispered, “behind...”

Another shot went off by his ear, almost deafening him, and then an arm was around his neck, choking him. He tried to pull free as a voice cooed into his other ear. “I've missed you so much, Ben.”


	9. The Other Side of the Coin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team looks into Bishop's shooting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I probably should never have written this story, looking now at where it went, and then I look at the scenes I flipped from Gibbs' pov to Ben's and think it must have been in the back of my mind all along.
> 
> I am very obviously disturbed.

* * *

“Easy, McPanic. They didn't call Ducky. They called us.”

Tim nodded, but that didn't make it any easier to look at the puddle of blood on the kitchen floor. Walking through Bishop's door was hard enough, seeing the destruction on the path to the door, but they already knew the source of the blood was Bishop.

The emergency call had only been for shots fired. Whoever had called hadn't actually spoken, but the dispatcher had police and an ambulance sent to the scene anyway. The officers outside the building had told him and Tony that a woman had been shot.

Ducky was on his way to the hospital, but they still didn't know how bad Bishop was.

And Jake was not answering his phone.

“Pictures,” Tony said, nodding to the room. Tim lifted the camera, forcing himself to take the pictures. He documented the blood on the floor, the towel next to the blood, and then the phone. “Looks like she might have been making coffee. Sink's dripping. And the pot is full. Might even still be warm.”

Tim took a picture of the coffee pot, still trying to make sense of what had happened. He turned the camera toward the entryway again. “Think this table was knocked down by the paramedics?”

Tony shrugged. “We'll have to ask them. Looks like Bishop's keys were on it.”

Tim took a picture as he walked back to the door. Opening it, he studied the door and the frame. “No sign of forced entry. No scrapes on the door or the frame, no scratches on the lock.”

Tony frowned. “That can't be right. Bishop was surprised in her kitchen. She wouldn't have let her shooter in the front door first.”

“We don't know that she was surprised. She could have known the person who shot her.”

“So, what, now that we think Jake is Ben, he's automatically a killer who shot his wife? Were you not in the room when they were doing the nauseating teasing thing just before Maddie said he looked like Ben? Forensics said Ben wasn't capable of killing his mother, remember?”

“I didn't say it was Jake, though he isn't answering his phone. Of course, if he's in meetings at the NSA, he might not answer. He's done that before.”

“Call it again. We need to see if it's here in the apartment. Come on, Magoo. We need to figure out if he was here or not,” Tony said, heading toward the bedroom. He poked his head into the room on the left instead, disappearing inside. “Damn.”

“What?” Tim asked, making the call to Jake's phone as he walked back toward the other man. It rang, but he didn't even hear a vibration in the apartment.

“Suit jacket on the back of the door. Socks on the counter. Shower and floor still wet. Looks like Jake was here. Think those were the clothes he was wearing earlier there,” Tony said. “Don't think there's a good reason why he'd leave without his socks.”

Tim knew Tony could be right about that, but then he could also be very wrong. They didn't know that Jake had been the one in the shower—he could just have changed in the bathroom—though there probably would have been more water in the kitchen if it was Bishop. “He must have other socks. He could have taken another pair, and we don't actually know that those were left in here today, even if the shower was used recently.”

“I guess we better find out if he ever made that meeting,” Tony said, taking out his phone. As he did, he started back to the front room. Frowning, Tim followed after him, still trying to make sense of what they'd found. Bishop was new, but she wasn't completely inexperienced. She'd been shot in her own home.

Damn it, it really sounded like she had to know her attacker because she hadn't seen it coming. Could Jake have been so bothered by the accusation that he was Ben that he would do this?

Tim went back into the bedroom, looking around. Half the covers were off the bed, though it wasn't that hard to believe that Bishop didn't make her bed every morning. Jake, though, Tim would have thought he was more of the type that would. Still, she'd said they'd had a rough morning yesterday, and even if Jake had been here after leaving NCIS, neither of them had been here long enough to do any sleeping.

He grimaced. This was one place he really did not want to see more of, and he hoped they didn't have to look too close at the bed or anything. Bishop had been shot in the kitchen, after all. He backed out and went to find Tony again.

“The NSA refused to confirm or deny Malloy's presence, so I called Vance. He said he'll attempt to cut through the NSA's classified party line for us,” Tony said as he hung up. “In the meantime, I think I have another way we might be able to tell if he was here. Is there a fingerprint in the blood on that phone?”

“Maybe,” Tim said, kneeling down to get a better look. The screen was smudged with blood, that much was obvious, but whether or not he could find a clear print in the blood was another matter. He snapped another picture before taking out his device and running it over the phone screen. “Got something. Running it and... Well, there's our answer. It's Jake's. I don't know, Tony. I'm not sure this helps like you hoped it would. If Jake was here when she was shot, then it makes it more likely he did shoot her. Maybe she said something that triggered a memory for Ben and he shot her in a weird PTSD moment. Or maybe Ben did kill Kristin Stone and his mother died because of it or—”

“Or Jake was in the shower when Bishop was shot. He came out to find her. Sees she's been shot. He grabs her phone, calls nine-one-one, and gets interrupted in the middle of the call. Remember, they said only that shots were fired. Not that either of them said anything. If Jake shot her and called for an ambulance in remorse, why didn't he speak? And why was there a gunshot on the call?”

Tim frowned. “I don't know. It's not like I want to believe that Jake shot Bishop, but without someone else in the apartment and no sign of forced entry—”

“You didn't see the way Malloy reacted to the idea of Bishop carrying a gun at the airport, McGoober. I have a hard time seeing him being able to use one, and against her?” Tony shook his head. “I don't care if most calls like this are domestic and the statistics favor him shooting her. He's just... not the type. Can I see Malloy getting in a fist fight? Yes. Shooting someone, no.”

Tim frowned. “You think Jake would fight someone with his bare hands?”

“Oh, he would have thrown down with that fake air marshal that disrespected Bishop,” Tony said. “Trust me, the man would do it. But a guy who is willing to fight another man for failing to apologize to his wife—he's not going to shoot her.”

Tim sighed. “I don't want to believe it, either, but we've got evidence that says Bishop probably knew the shooter, Jake was definitely here, and why would someone come after them in bright daylight like this?”

“Who says he did?” Tony countered. “Neither of them went home last night. Our shooter could have been waiting here all night and saw his opportunity when Jake was in the shower.”

Tim grimaced. “There's no sign of that. And no sign that he did anything to harm Jake.”

“Hannah Myerson's killer let Ben live before. Why not now?”

* * *

_“You know Kristin is dead, don't you?”_

_Ben nodded, reaching up to try and stop the hand touching his neck. The grip tightened, and he couldn't get the hand off. He winced, feeling tears in his eyes._

_“You know why she's dead, don't you?”_

_Ben shook his head. Everyone said Kristin must have been sicker than anyone knew, maybe had a heart condition. She'd just died, and while Ben had kind of liked her, he preferred Shannon Gibbs, and he'd rather be there._

_“It's your fault.”_

_Ben stared. “No. I... I didn't hurt her. I never even saw her that day.”_

_“You told Kristin about our secret, and she had to die.”_

_Ben shuddered._

_“It's okay, now. Don't cry. I know you won't ever tell anyone again.”_

_Ben felt sick, shaking his head. “No. If you killed Kristin—”_

_“Then I might have to kill Shannon. Or little Kelly. Your mother. Even Maddie. Is that what you want, Ben? Do you want them all to die because you can't keep a secret?”_

_Ben wept. He didn't want to keep the secret, but he didn't want anyone else to die. He didn't want anyone else hurt. He already hurt bad enough._

_“Shh. I told you not to cry. I know you won't tell, and we can keep having our little secret.”_

* * *

“How is she?”

“Still in surgery,” Ducky answered, not surprised to hear the demand from the man who had just entered the waiting room. No, the surprise was more that he was present in person. “I'm afraid I haven't gotten much information yet.”

“And Malloy?”

Ducky shook his head. He was rather concerned, in fact, since he and the others were unaware of Jakob's whereabouts. Elanor's condition was worrisome, and it was very unlikely that her husband would have stayed away if he knew of it. “He wasn't there, though I fear he was when it started. Anthony and Timothy would know more, though. They were at the scene.”

Jethro looked frustrated, and Ducky could not blame him, since one of his own was hurt and another was missing. “How the hell did this happen?”

“Best guess, the shooter was waiting for them when they got home,” Anthony said as he joined them. “So far we don't have much in the way of proof of that, either—found some ash, probably from a cigarette, on a windowsill, and neither Bishop or Malloy smoke—but it's not conclusive.”

Jethro fixed him with a harsh look. “You saying Malloy shot Bishop?”

“I'm saying I think that's what we're supposed to think,” Anthony corrected. “We didn't find any obvious signs that someone else had been in the apartment, and the outside of the building has a keycode entry. So does the garage. Theoretically, anyone in the building had to have the code or been allowed in by a resident.”

Jethro frowned. “What did you find?”

“Proof that Jake was definitely there when it happened. His prints were on Bishop's phone in blood, which could be damning if you didn't know the guy,” Anthony answered. He shook his head. “Both of their cars were still there. Bishop parks that truck on the side street, and Malloy's car is in the garage, no real surprise there because hers is a piece of crap whereas his is a beautiful—”

“DiNozzo.”

“Just spoke to the paramedics who brought Bishop here. They said the table in the entry way was knocked over when they got there. Way I figure it, Jake was in the shower, came out to join Bishop—she made coffee, it was still fresh—and found her shot. He tried to help and got attacked. He probably knocked over the table in the struggle. And yes, boss, I think he was the main target,” Anthony finished.

Ducky winced. “I fear we may have to revisit the theory none of us wanted to pursue.”

Anthony nodded. “Well, we tried to see if we could eliminate it with Maddie's help, but she couldn't. The bullying everyone thought was happening... it could have been something else.”

“Forget theories. Do we know where this guy took Malloy?”

“No, boss. McGee was checking the cameras in the building, but I found Jake's cellphone in his car. Vance was able to confirm that Jake never made the meeting at the NSA—and they are pissed, by the way—but we have no sign of where he ended up. We don't even have proof he was taken from that building by force, though I think we all agree he was.”

“Damn it,” Jethro muttered. “How the hell did he get to Malloy? How did he even know?”

“Well, we still strongly suspect that Dunn told someone enough to get him killed. McGee didn't find a connection with any of the payphone numbers, but that isn't proof enough to rule it out. If what he said was the same as what Maddie said, that Jake was Ben, then our killer would have been looking for Ben as soon as Dunn told him.”

“And if, as we also believe, Hannah knew her killer or Benjamin did, then we are looking for someone who knows you as well, Jethro,” Ducky told him. He frowned, trying to put together more of the puzzle. “Anthony, you said that Elanor's apartment was staged?”

“We think so. Someone wants us to believe Jake shot Bishop and fled.”

“And Dunn's death looked like a badly staged suicide. Plus a staged robbery at Hannah Myerson's. Our killer has been trying to obscure his purpose in all of his attacks. In Kristin Stone's case, he managed to obscure how she died. Her murder went unnoticed—”

“All of us thought it was damned weird that she collapsed like that. We were told it was natural causes, though,” Jethro said. “Didn't feel right, but I wasn't NIS yet. Didn't investigate it myself.”

“Nevertheless, I think the main focus of this killer has always been to hide what his true motives were. We have Kristin, whose murder was undetected. We have a faked robbery where no one heard the disturbance—he took time to set his scene, time enough to allow him to get away. He may also have changed Benjamin's pajamas to cover his true reason for being there that night. Then he attempted to make Dunn's death look like a suicide. Now he has made it look like Jakob shot his own wife. Even with their problems, none of us believe him capable of that. In part, our killer thinks he is clever. He's managed to muddy so many waters he thinks he won't be caught, as he wasn't for Hannah's death and Kristin's. He may even be attempting to cast suspicion on Benjamin, having also framed him for shooting Elanor.”

“And Irene Walker's death looks like a heart attack.”

“Actually, that I do believe to be true,” Ducky told him. “I can find no sign that it was induced in any manner. I believe she simply succumbed to her age. No, Jethro, that may not be a part of this apparent conspiracy, but I think I know what might be.”

“Out with it, Duck.”

“I believe our killer may have some training as a locksmith.”

* * *

_Someone put a hand on Ben's shoulder, and he jumped. He winced, knowing he wasn't supposed to, but he'd thought Gibbs was someone else. He was glad it was just Gibbs, that he was safe, but he knew that wasn't going to last. They'd send Gibbs away again._

_“You're not playing with the others.”_

_Ben shrugged. He wasn't sure he wanted to. He'd rather stay with Gibbs now. “Don't care. Don't want to.”_

_Gibbs snorted. “This about the glasses?”_

_It wasn't. It was about a horrible secret Ben didn't want to keep, but his glasses were still a problem. “Mom says we can't afford to replace them if they get broken. It wasn't my fault, though. I told her that. She... she said it didn't matter. I knew better because they play rough.”_

_“They pushing you around at school?”_

_Ben thought of the secret, of how it scared him, and he wished he could hide. “No.”_

_“Don't lie to me. I know when you do.” Gibbs knelt down in front of him. “Shannon said you were having a hard time. These kids giving you trouble because of the glasses? Calling you Four Eyes or something like that?”_

_Ben looked up at him, wanting to tell him everything about the secret and make it go away. “Why can't I just be normal? I want to be normal. I don't want to be special. Being special... it's wrong.”_

_He was special because of the secret, and he didn't want to be. He wanted to be normal. To have that all go away._

_“You're a smart kid, Ben. Doesn't matter if you need glasses to see or not. Few idiots on the playground can't change that.”_

_Ben grimaced. He didn't get along with the kids at school, but it wasn't just that. “Mom told me I'd be happier when I was at school with kids my own age. She was wrong. Or I am. The only people that like me are adults.”_

_“And Kelly. She hasn't stopped being your friend just because she has other friends, too.”_

_“They all think I'm weird. And maybe I am.” Ben bit his lip, trying to find the words to tell Gibbs about the secret, but then his mother called him home._

* * *

“Doctor Mallard?”

Ducky turned, and Tony figured this guy had to be Bishop's surgeon. The scrubs were part of it, but Ducky recognized him, which also supported that. “How is Elanor?”

“Stable,” the surgeon answered. “Have you located her next of kin yet?”

“Unfortunately, we believe her husband was also harmed by the man who shot her,” Ducky told the surgeon. “This is her supervisor and a teammate. We all consider ourselves like family, and we do need to know her condition if we hope to have any success in locating Jakob.” 

The surgeon nodded. “Well, we removed the bullets, and there was no damage to any of her major organs. She'll be sore for a long time, but she should make a full recovery. She was very lucky.”

Ducky nodded. “Thank you, Doctor. How long might it be before we can see her?”

“We're having her moved to recovery now, but she is still under sedation.”

“Again, thank you,” Ducky said. Tony tried to force a smile. At least Bishop was going to make it. Maybe when she woke up, she'd be able to tell them what happened at the apartment. He figured his theory was good and explained most of it, but she might have seen something that would help.

“You have the bullets?” Gibbs asked, and the surgeon nodded. “We're going to need them.”

“Of course. The nurse will get that for you.”

“I'll tell McGee about the locksmith angle,” Tony said, taking out his phone. He made the call, walking away from the others. He needed to know what McGee had found on the security cameras, too. “McGoobers. Just got word—Bishop's out of surgery and should recover fine.”

“That's good,” McGee said. “Best news we've gotten all day, really.”

“Security cameras that bad?”

“Well, the one at the garage picked up Bishop and Jake leaving his car there, but that's it. We already knew they were attacked in the apartment,” McGee said. “I have been looking into other angles, but there isn't one for the two places that would have been the most help—the stairwell and the hall outside their apartment.”

“Ducky suggested our bad guy might have been or had training as a locksmith. Maybe when he was at Pendleton. Maybe not.”

“Actually, now that you say that... There may have been a locksmith's number on one of the phones,” McGee agreed. “I'll have to go check again. That does explain something else... The camera that faces the keypad had some kind of... malfunction late last night.”

“So our guy could have had time to get in?” Tony asked. “If he had the right training to bypass the keypad—”

“He could have gotten in there and picked the lock on the front door with minimal damage since he was a professional. I didn't see any outside signs of it being picked, but maybe if we took the door lock to Abby, she'd find something different.”

“Exactly. Gibbs is getting the bullets, and we're probably about to head back ourselves, but if you find anyone connected to Myerson's case who's now working as a locksmith—”

“We might have our killer.”

* * *

_“Something bothering you, Ben?”_

_Ben jumped, not sure where Gibbs had come from. He hadn't even heard that Gibbs was coming home from his deployment, but then his mom kept sending him over to keep Bruce company all the time so he barely saw anyone else._

_“Ben?”_

_Shivering, Ben wrapped his arms around himself and shook his head. He knew he couldn't tell._

_“I told you that you can tell me anything.”_

_Ben couldn't. He knew he couldn't. “Mrs. Stone died.”_

_“I know,” Gibbs said, trying to comfort him. “That make you scared for your mom?”_

_Ben shook his head. That didn't. He knew that his mom was safe as long as he was quiet, but he couldn't help feeling sick every time he thought about Kristin. She was dead because of him. “I... I see her. In my dreams. I see her dead in her kitchen.”_

_“You didn't find her, though. You didn't see her there,” Gibbs said. “Did you?”_

_Ben couldn't look at him. He was so horrible, so evil. He'd gotten her killed, and he hadn't even been there. “When she didn't come to get me, I was glad. I wanted to be with Mrs. Gibbs, not her. I'm sorry. I know I shouldn't have—but I didn't—she was nice, but she doesn't cook as good, and I don't like their house like this place. It's not—I'm sorry.”_

_Gibbs touched his shoulders. “You don't have to feel guilty about wanting to be here instead of there. You didn't kill her, Ben. Even if you had been there, you wouldn't have been able to help her.”_

_Ben couldn't help it. He started to cry. Gibbs was wrong. He was the reason Kristin was dead. It was all his fault._

* * *

“Abs, what you got?”

Abby looked back at the doorway, eying the people in it. On the one hand, she was glad that Gibbs was back because things always seemed better when Gibbs was around, like he could protect them all just with one angry glare. Still, that wasn't enough. Not when Bishop was in the hospital, Jake was missing, and she was trying to keep Maddie from knowing any of that and in the building so she was safe.

“First, do you have anything for me?” Abby asked, knowing that she needed to do the tests on the bullets from Bishop, even if it made her a little sick to her stomach to think about.

Gibbs nodded. Tony went over into her office, and she gave him a forced smile, knowing that she would have to deal with the bullets when she was done with the picture. Maybe someone else could take over on Maddie watch for a bit. Abby volunteered Gibbs, even if he would want to be the one to go after Jake. Who might just be Ben. She hadn't actually checked those DNA results, not with Maddie in the same room with her.

“We're not really sure it means anything,” Maddie said. “I just couldn't remember one of the photos, so Abby did some enhancement on it, and we looked at the other pictures to put a few other things together.”

“Well?” Gibbs asked, giving Maddie a slight frown. Abby knew he could take her out of the room when they were done with this part.

“We have a pretty innocuous picture,” Abby said, pulling it up on the screen. “It's cute, actually. We have the girls here playing, arm in arm. Smiling, laughing. Totally worth having in the photo album. What I noticed and had Maddie double check for me was here—”

“I thought we were looking at this because there was someone in the background talking to Ben and Maddie couldn't be sure who it was.”

“True, and that is the case, but let me get to that. So down here at the girls' feet is longer grass. If we go back to one of these other pictures from the picnic, the grass is short, well-maintained,” Abby said. “So I thought maybe this wasn't the same picnic, but we checked the clothes. Both of the girls were wearing the same clothes.”

“The park was bordered by trees,” Gibbs said. “That's the other side of them. Kids were supposed to stay where the picnic was, but few of them did.”

“Exactly what Maddie thought, and I could do a comparison on the trees to prove it, but my main point in bringing that out was that whoever was with Ben probably thought no one would see them. That may have been the only reason he approached him there.”

Gibbs frowned. “No. He wouldn't have approached him there. Ben wouldn't have gone into those trees. Not after the poison oak.”

Maddie grimaced. “Yeah, that was bad. He should have been able to tell if he had his glasses, but he was afraid of getting them knocked off again. Does that mean this guy with him dragged him out into the woods?”

“We don't know that,” Abby said. “The detail still isn't clear enough.”

“I thought you said you thought you could get more of Ben's face back.”

“Maybe, but I'm not sure,” Abby told her, feeling guilty. She knew she could, but she had a feeling she knew what she'd see when she did, so she wasn't going to finish in front of Maddie. “I should probably get back to the evidence on Dunn's case.”

“Oh.”

“McGee could use your help, though,” Tony told her, getting a frown from Gibbs. “He was trying to eliminate numbers from payphones. Maybe you might recognize some of the names from back then. I'm sure he'd appreciate the help.”

“Sure,” Maddie agreed, smiling. Tony escorted her to the elevator, and Abby turned back to the picture, doing the last of the filters and getting rid of more of the noise.

“Damn. That kid looks terrified,” Tony said when he came back into the room. “And look, the way he's standing—he's trying to get away from this guy, whoever he is.”

“Yeah, before the picture was too blurry to show him trying to back away or the facial expression,” Abby said, grimacing. “Maddie only knew it was him because of the glasses. You can't see enough of his face or the tension in him without the enhancement.”

“Can you clear up the other face?” Gibbs asked, hand in a fist.

“Well, he's kneeling next to Ben, and with the way he's faced away from the camera—I think he's actually trying to grab Ben—it's hard to get much, even after I enhanced it. Ben's turned toward the camera, so his face did clear up, but that angle, without a reflection on our mystery man, I can't fix that. However, since we already established that it was the same party, he's wearing the same clothes. We just need one of the other pictures he was in.”

“You are the best,” Tony said, grinning at her.

Abby smiled, but she couldn't make it last for long. She pulled up the other photo. “This is the one Maddie pointed out to us first. Ben arriving with the Stones.”

“That doesn't make sense,” Tony said. “That guy can't be our killer. He was deployed when both of those women were killed.”

“No,” Gibbs said, using his scary angry voice. “It was Bruce Stone.”

* * *

_“That is one hell of a shiner,” Gibbs said, and Ben frowned at him, not sure what that meant. He felt Gibbs' hand close to his eye and grimaced. “What happened?”_

_Ben looked down at the floor. He wasn't supposed to let anyone know, not let anyone see. His mom didn't know. She never paid attention to him anymore. “Nothing.”_

_“Don't you go saying nothing to me when it is obviously not nothing. How many times I gotta tell you—if you need help, ask. That's a rule, remember? Now tell me what happened. Was it one of the kids at school? Did they do this?”_

_Ben bit his lip. He wanted to tell Gibbs. He did, but he couldn't. Bruce had really hurt him, and if he told, he'd hurt someone else. Shannon, Kelly, Maddie... Ben wasn't sure he cared anymore if something happened to his mom, but he couldn't let the others get hurt. Or killed, like Kristin. Bruce hadn't even been home, but she was dead, and that meant none of them were safe._

_“Let's get you some ice.”_

_Ben watched him putting ice on the washcloth, thinking Gibbs' hands looked tougher than Bruce's. If they fought, would Gibbs win?_

_“Gibbs?”_

_“What, Ben?”_

_“You're a marine,” Ben said, wondering if that was enough. “You could protect them, right?”_

_Gibbs frowned. “Not sure why you think the bullies would need protection, though I don't hit kids. I would make sure they got in trouble for hurting you, though.”_

_Ben nodded. He knew that Gibbs would fight—but if they sent him away again, then it didn't matter. Bruce could still kill everyone else. No, he still couldn't tell._

* * *

“Oh, Ben,” the man said, his voice sickeningly sweet as he spoke. “I really have missed you. Every day, I thought about you. I thought about what it would be like when I found you again.”

Jake opened his eyes, swallowing as he tried to take in the room. His throat ached, and that simple act seemed like a mistake. He tried to keep himself from doing it again, but he couldn't stop the reflex. The walls were covered in peeling wallpaper, most of it stained, and he wanted to gag.

He wasn't in the apartment. He had been pulled out of it. He knew that. He was choking, and he was being dragged, and he'd kicked the table with his bare feet and that hurt, but...

“Where's Ellie?” Jake croaked out. “What... did you... do... to her?”

“You're awake. I'm glad,” the man said, coming close to him, and Jake cursed himself for being an idiot. He hadn't thought. He'd just spoke. “So very glad you're awake, Ben.”

“I'm not... Ben,” Jake said. “Where... is... Ellie?”

“It has been too long,” the man said, caressing Jake's face. He jerked away from him to hit the wall. He tried to move in the other direction, but he was stopped short. He looked up at his hands, seeing them tied with rope. He gagged, feeling sick. He was trapped. “Too long.”

“Where is... my wife?” Jake asked. “Is she here? Did you—”

“She doesn't matter,” the man snapped, and Jake thought he was about to hit him, but he grabbed his hand instead. Jake tried to pull his hand free, but the man yanked on the wedding band, and when Jake bent his finger, trying to stop him from taking it off, he snapped it back straight.

Jake cried out, and the man threw the band across the room. “You bastard.”

“Shh,” the man said, touching his face again. “Shh, now, Ben. I'm sorry I had to hurt you, but you know better than that. You know you shouldn't fight me.”

“I'm not Ben,” Jake repeated. “My name... is Jake... You have... the wrong person. Let me go.”

“Dunn called me. He said Ben was alive. You don't know how happy that made me. I've missed you for so long. I didn't want to believe you were dead, but they couldn't find you. I wanted to, looked up every Ben Myerson I found over the years. They weren't you. I just had to look at the eyes to know.”

Jake shook his head, desperate. “You're still... wrong. I'm not Ben.”

“You are. I know you are,” the man insisted, putting his hand on the back of Jake's neck, forcing him to look at him even as the pain from the bruises made him want to pass out. “I never forgot you. Or those eyes. I always remembered the way you looked at me. The way you are right now.”

“You're sick,” Jake said, trying to pull on the ropes and get himself free. He didn't want to be in this room a minute longer. This man was twisted, and Jake didn't want to know what he'd done to Ben. “Let me go. You... I have to... get to Ellie...”

“The woman is dead,” the man told him. “Just like I warned you would happen. You haven't forgotten that, have you?”

_“Don't tell anyone about this,” Bruce said, and Ben frowned a little. Bruce was an adult, so Ben was supposed to listen to him, but he didn't like this. His mother always told him not to tell, but Gibbs and Shannon said to tell. He liked them better._

_“About what?”_

_“If you tell anyone about this, I'll have to hurt them.”_

_Ben swallowed, staring at him. “You... you're joking, right?”_

_Bruce shook his head. “No, Ben. This is a very important secret. If you tell someone, I'm going to have to hurt them. So you won't tell, will you? You promise me you won't?”_

_Ben thought he was going to cry, and Bruce grabbed him, so he nodded quickly, not wanting to get hurt. “I won't. I won't tell.”_

_“Good,” Bruce said, backing off with a smile. “Very good.”_

The hand was back on his face again. “There it is. I see you remember. That's very good, Ben. I think you understand again. You'd forgotten, but a reminder is all it takes, isn't it?”

Jake shook his head. That wasn't his memory. It couldn't be. He wasn't Ben. He was Jake. Jake Malloy. Had been all his life, no matter who he looked like. “You're never... going to... let me go, are you?”

Bruce—was this man's name actually Bruce, or was that something he'd made up?—shook his head. “I did that once. I thought... I thought I had to lose you the night your mother interrupted us, but you lived. You're mine again. And I won't ever let you go this time.”


	10. The Breaking Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team tries to find Jake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the format of this chapter is a little different. I think it can be seen why. It would have been huge.
> 
> And it was hard to do, and I cried, and I kind of hate myself now.

* * *

Ellie opened her eyes with a groan, almost wishing she hadn't. Everything hurt, and she didn't know how to make it stop. She started to move her arm and felt a tug, looking over to see an IV in her arm. That meant a hospital, didn't it? Yeah, the rest of the room fit with that. Monitors, white walls, ugly curtains.

“There you are, Elanor,” Ducky said, and she looked over at him. “We were hoping you would wake up soon.”

She tried to smile, wasn't sure if she managed it. “I think a part of me... would rather be asleep.”

“I'm sure it would,” Ducky agreed. “However, we cannot afford to allow you to do so just yet. Not only would your doctors like to talk to you and check your condition, but we need information from you as well.”

Ellie closed her eyes again, wincing. “He got Jake, didn't he?”

“Then you remember what happened at the apartment?”

Ellie nodded.

_She let Jake go off down the hall, going into the kitchen. She wasn't sure how to feel right now, not that she thought anyone was. Jake could be there missing witness, and while on the one hand it would be good to solve this old murder and reunite Gibbs with the boy he'd apparently cared for like a son, it was also horrible. If Jake was Ben, he'd witnessed his mother's murder and maybe knew something about a second one. Then there was what the changed pajamas might imply plus the fact that Jake's family had apparently lied to him his entire life._

_That would be devastating._

_She filled the coffee pot with water, biting her lip. She didn't want to think that there was any part of her that was trying to stick with their marriage just because she was seeing him come apart as this case progressed. That was hard to watch, but she cared about him and genuinely wanted to help._

_This wasn't guilt, though she definitely felt helpless and was still a bit mad he'd kept his resemblance to Ben from her._

_She filled the pot with water and set the carafe back on the burner. Frowning, she turned around, thinking she'd heard something, but the shower was still going. Even as fast as Jake intended to be, he wasn't that fast. She shrugged, putting a filter in the basket and filling it with coffee. She hit the button and stepped back, deciding to go get some fresh clothes for herself._

_She'd no sooner turned and seen the man there than the gun went off. Pain exploded near her shoulder, and she fell, new aches spreading over her as she hit the floor. The impact knocked the wind out of her. He walked away, and she tried to get her breath back to call out to Jake._

_She heard Jake calling out to her, but she couldn't answer, only managing a hiss. She tried to get up, but her body wouldn't cooperate. She knew it couldn't be that bad. She could still breathe, so no punctured lung. It was only her shoulder._

_“Oh, God, Ellie,” Jake said, coming around the counter. He grabbed a towel and put it on the wound just as she managed to get her hand near it. She held the towel there as he went for her phone._

_Then the man was behind him again, and she started to warn him, but it was too late. He fired again, and her side burned with the pain. She could only watch as he grabbed Jake around the neck, choking him._

_Jake dropped the phone, struggling to get out of the choke hold as the man dragged him backward. He knocked over the table and then both of them were gone out the door._

“That fits with what Anthony and Timothy found at the scene. You didn't notice anything amiss in the apartment before the attack?”

She shook her head. “Door was locked... like it should have been. I... I never made it past the kitchen. He... He could have been in the bedroom. I never saw him, not before he shot me.”

Ducky nodded. “You should rest.”

“If I'd checked the apartment—”

“My dear, why would you? You had no knowledge of a threat to you or Jakob at that time. Yes, it's true we were all informed that he might be Benjamin Myerson shortly before you left, but you had no way of knowing that Hannah's killer was also aware of that information. We did suspect that Dunn had told someone something that got him killed, but we could not know that it was his suspicion that Jakob was Benjamin. Even now, we can't prove that. It is only a suspicion.”

She sighed. “Neither of them told us.”

“Jethro rarely divulges personal information, though I admit to some curiosity as to Jakob's motivation.”

“He was terrified... it was true.”

Ducky frowned. “I admit, the psychological impact of that is difficult to predict. Obviously, Benjamin endured a very traumatic event, and if Jakob is that same boy, that trauma is compounded by the fact that his family lied to him and allowed him to believe he was someone else. It would seem he repressed the memories of the night his mother died—that could even have been caused by the head wound he suffered and the coma he was in after his death. Memory loss would not have been unexpected.”

Ellie nodded. “He had a nightmare... about the murder... It shook him so badly...”

“That was a rather disturbing murder, and knowing as he did about his resemblance to one of the victims, it's understandable that he would dream about it.”

Ellie shook her head. “He thought... I'd leave him... if he was Ben... And then... I didn't... Couldn't stop...”

“This is not your fault, Elanor,” Ducky insisted. “And we will get Jakob back. You rest now.”

“Need to tell you... what he... looked like.”

“You will.”

* * *

“I can't get over how you've grown,” Bruce said, staring at Jake. Jake gagged, feeling sick just from that look. He had just showered before this guy attacked him, but he felt covered in grime, weeks worth of it if not more, like he'd never be clean again. “You were so small and thin when I first met you. I hardly noticed you at first.”

Jake didn't bother trying to argue with him. He knew he wasn't going to convince the other man he wasn't Ben. He didn't think that people who knew him better than this psychopath didn't believe it. Gibbs did. Jake was almost certain of that. Tony and McGee seemed to buy it. Jake didn't know about Abby or Ducky.

Ellie...

Jake pressed his eyes shut. He couldn't let himself believe what Bruce had said about Ellie. The one wound he'd seen before he was taken didn't seem to be fatal. He wasn't an expert, and he had seen enough blood to scare him, but that one was in her shoulder. It wasn't that bad. She'd spoken. She'd moved her hand. She'd been holding the towel.

She could still be alive.

“Open your eyes,” Bruce ordered, shaking him. Jake did, though he regretted it as the other man loomed over him. “That's better. You know better than that, too. What did I always tell you? No closing your eyes. I have to be able to see them.”

He patted Jake's cheek, and Jake gagged again, wanting to puke.

“You have such amazing eyes,” Bruce went on. “Incredible. When I saw them, I knew. I knew that you were special. You were meant to be mine.”

Jake shook his head. “No. I was never yours, and I'm not now.”

* * *

“You know, when I agree to joint investigations, I actually expect them to be joint,” Fornell observed, and Gibbs gave him a look. He didn't have time for this. He knew that Abby had to be searching for Bruce Stone, and McGee would be if Gibbs handed him the name, but with Maddie looking over his shoulder, Gibbs didn't want to do it. A part of him wanted Stone, now, but another part of him still wanted to keep her from knowing, especially when Stone was still out there.

“My people did your work, Tobias,” Gibbs reminded him. “We've got problems of our own.”

Fornell grunted. “Your problem is my problem when it comes to this case.”

Gibbs shook his head. “My office.”

Fornell frowned, but he followed him to the elevator. As soon as the doors were shut, Gibbs pushed the stop button. “Haven't done this in a while.”

“Haven't needed to,” Gibbs said. “Bishop was shot. Malloy is missing. We have a suspect.”

“And you couldn't tell me that out there?”

“Not with Maddie there to hear it. She thinks Malloy is Ben, and I don't know how she'll react to hearing that we suspect her neighbor,” Gibbs said. “I doubt she'd tip him off, but we can't be sure he wouldn't go after her if he thought she knew something. He did with Malloy, and he left Bishop to die.”

Fornell grimaced. “You got any leads on this guy?”

“We think he works as a locksmith,” Gibbs said. Fornell gave him a look. “No one looked that hard at him before because he was deployed when his wife died. Same with Hannah Myerson.”

“Then how did he—”

“His wife's death wasn't determined. Ducky thinks she was poisoned. Stone probably left something for her before he deployed. Still not sure how he managed it with Myerson, but I know it's him. He did this. He has Malloy now.”

“We need more than this bastard is a locksmith. We're not going to get him on the poisoning of his wife. You'd have to disprove his alibi, which since it was the marine corps—”

“Abby's got DNA from three of his victims. She can match him to the crime as soon as we find him,” Gibbs said. He just didn't know how they'd find him, and it was pissing him off. He needed to get his hands on Stone and make him pay.

“Still need his DNA.”

“Then we get his address and start there.”

* * *

“Don't make me hurt you again,” Bruce warned, taking hold of Jake's neck again. “I don't like hurting you, but when you disobey me, I have to punish you. I don't understand why you don't listen to me. I made it so very clear when we started.”

Jake winced, and Bruce put pressure on his neck, making him cry out again.

“I told you not to close your eyes.”

Jake stared at him. He hadn't, not for more than a second. He didn't know that there was anything he could do to keep this guy calm. He knew Bruce didn't want to let him go, but he had to hope that if Gibbs and his team knew he was missing—and they had to, since he'd called to get Ellie help—that they would find him. They'd found other people—Parsa and Sergei—and if they could do that, they could find Jake.

He just didn't know that he would be alive when they did. This guy was all over the place, and he didn't think he could play along enough to keep himself alive. He kept doing the wrong thing, and that was going to get him killed.

“That's better. Now let me get a good look at you. I want to see how you've changed, every little detail. It's been so long...” Bruce leaned over him again, studying him. “I barely know where to start.”

Jake wanted to tell him to go to hell, but he already knew that could get him killed. He had to do what he could to stay alive.

“These arms,” Bruce said, running a finger along Jake's forearm and down to his shoulder. “Yours used to be so thin and scrawny. So small. Now... Now you are much stronger, aren't you? You fought me more than I would have thought.”

Jake didn't feel like it was much of a fight, and he couldn't make one now. His hands were still tied above his head, making his arms ache, and he didn't know that he'd still have that broken finger after all of this was done. While his feet weren't stuck to the wall, with them bound together like that, he couldn't do much.

“What is it?”

Jake swallowed. He hadn't realized that Bruce had seen anything. He didn't want to answer this, not knowing how Bruce would react, but not saying anything was probably worse. “What happened to my shirt?”

“Your shirt?”

Jake nodded. He'd felt Bruce's fingers on his skin, making him want to vomit, but he knew that he had been wearing his dress shirt when he was attacked. “I had a long sleeve shirt. It's gone now.”

Bruce shrugged. “You don't need it anymore.”

* * *

“What is up with Gibbs?”

“You came all the way down to my lab to ask that?” Abby frowned, shaking her head as she did. Tim grimaced, not really wanting to explain but not having much of a choice.

“I grabbed Palmer before he could leave and left him distracting Maddie since I know that was apparently what I was supposed to be doing. What gives? I thought I was trying to find a locksmith connected to this case, and I was in the middle of that when Maddie shows up and says I'm looking for help with numbers from the payphone,” Tim said. “I couldn't finish with her over my shoulder, even if I did find the name.”

“Sorry, McTesty,” Tony said. “We needed an excuse to get Maddie out of the room so we could get our suspect narrowed down from the photo, and that was the first thing I thought of. If Bishop wasn't in the hospital, I would have given her the girl, maybe sent her to the files, but that's not an option. Maddie doesn't even know Bishop's been shot.”

Tim nodded. They couldn't necessarily tell her that, and they didn't want her leaving if she could be under the same threat. “Who's the suspect?”

“Bruce Stone.”

“That makes no sense. He was deployed for both his wife's death and Hannah Myerson's,” Tim said. Then he sighed. “Though I guess if it was poison in Kristin Stone's case, he could have set that up before he left. Not sure about Myerson's death.”

Tony shrugged. “We haven't figured that out yet, either. Gibbs said it was him and took off. We're still trying to figure that out. Abby got as far as pulling up Stone's service record when you came down here.”

Abby nodded. “I was thinking maybe we'd see if he was due back the day after Hannah Myerson's death. If he was, then he'd still be 'deployed' to everyone's mind—”

“But he could have come back that night, and if he did, then he could have been at Myerson's house that night,” Tim said. He went over to the other computer. “Have you seen anything to suggest he had training as a locksmith?”

“Not yet, not in here. Looks like...” Abby pointed to a line on the screen. “There. His squad was deployed, yes, but they came back the day Hannah died. Technically, they were all on ship waiting to transfer back to the ground, so he's considered still deployed—”

“But the ship was in port, he was here,” Tony said. “If he was able to get off the ship, he could have gone after Hannah.”

“Or Ben,” Tim said, disgusted by the thought.

“Stone was dishonorably discharged about a year after Myerson's death. It was psychiatric,” Abby said, grimacing. “Looks like they thought he never recovered from his wife's death.” 

Tony grunted. “More like he was a sick bastard who killed two women and bludgeoned a kid. He wasn't having trouble coping. I doubt he cared that he'd killed his wife.”

“Probably not,” Abby agreed, using her keyboard to pull up a new search. “He bounced around for years after that, never settling in one spot. I've got DMV records from five states where he got licenses and had residences. Washington, Montana, Nevada, Tennessee, and Georgia.”

“So he's living in Georgia? That can't be right, Abs. He killed Dunn the night Gibbs and Jake spoke to him. He has to be closer than that.”

“And he probably is, but we don't have a more recent driver's license for him. He apparently lost his last one for drunk driving and never got it reinstated even though the residence is now owned by someone else,” Abby said. “Still, if he was close enough to be able to kill Dunn—”

“I have something,” Tim said, looking up from his screen. “I found a Bruce Stone who is licensed as a locksmith in Virginia.”

Tony nodded. “That's close enough. What else?”

“This number,” Tim said, pointing to the company that employed Stone. “That was the number that Dunn called. Well, it was called from a payphone close to the trailer park. It was probably him, but we can't prove it.”

“That's great, McBell, but we need somewhere to search if we're going to find Jake,” Tony said, turning to Abby. “You got anything?”

She shook her head. “Stone doesn't own any property in DC, not in Virginia, Maryland, or West Virginia. Not anywhere.”

Tim grimaced, but Tony was the one to say the words. “He's a locksmith. Technically, he doesn't have to own anywhere.”

* * *

“What are you doing?” Jake asked, watching Bruce with a sinking feeling in his stomach. Bruce had finally tired of going over his arms, which was a relief, but not much of one. He'd thought he'd distracted him with the question about the shirt, but he hadn't. Bruce had gone back to them, repeating his disbelief in just how much “Ben” had changed over the years and running his hands over them so much that he should have memorized them. “What is that?”

Bruce looked back at him, whatever he had in his hands still hidden. “You have so many questions. Always so curious.”

Jake didn't want another comparison to Ben. He wanted this to end, but he knew that if it did, he would probably be dead. “What are you going to do?”

“I told you. I want to see every way you've changed,” Bruce said, and Jake backed up against the wall as he brought a knife forward. He couldn't get away from it, yanking on the ropes again but only managing to make his arms hurt worse than before and making the broken finger throb again. “Relax, Ben. You know I only have to hurt you if you misbehave.”

Jake still didn't know exactly what Bruce meant by misbehaving. Bruce was too unstable for that, and Jake knew that knife in his hand was not good, no matter what he said.

Bruce took hold of his t-shirt, lifting it up and putting the knife to it. Jake stared, eyes not leaving the blade as it cut through the fabric. He dragged it up toward Jake's neck, and he flinched, turning away at the last second.

“Ben,” Bruce chided, setting the knife aside and forcing Jake's chin up. “You know better than that. I'm not going to hurt you.”

“You choked me, tied me up, and broke my finger,” Jake reminded him. “You already hurt me.”

“You brought that on yourself,” Bruce said, touching his face. “When you obey me, you don't get hurt. You hid from me for over twenty years. I could punish you so much for that... And I have to keep you in place now because I can't trust you. You'll try and run, and I can't have that. And I had to prove to you that the band was meaningless. The woman was in the way. And you belong to me.”

Jake shuddered, but he forced himself not to say anything back, not to argue. He knew that would only mean more pain, and with Bruce going to the knife again, he didn't dare risk it.

Bruce cut the other side of the shirt, dragging the blade up toward where he'd stopped the last time. He moved the knife across the top of the shirt, nicking Jake when he cut through the sleeve. He pulled it off and tossed it to the side.

“And I thought the arms were something.”

“No,” Jake said, horrified by knowing what was coming as Bruce moved closer. “Don't. Don't touch me. Leave me alone.”

“Ben, you know better than that.”

* * *

“Gibbs, I hate to break it to you, but no one lives here.”

Gibbs grunted, not arguing that. This lot wasn't much more than a pair of trees and a small overgrown spot where maybe a car had been parked, years ago. No buildings, no shelter. Not even a sign that there had once been anything of the sort on this spot existed. Stone must have stolen this address to get his job. Wherever he was, it wasn't here.

“I know.”

“Your team could have something by now.”

“Like what, Tobias?” Gibbs demanded in frustration. This case had the same problem from the beginning, and that hadn't changed. Too much of the evidence was hiding in old technology and ways of doing things, letting things like Stone getting back a day early to be missed along with the poison that had actually killed his wife. “Everything is going to trace back to this same damned lot. He used it to get his job, to fake his license. He's not going to own property in his name. He never had that kind of money, and something tells me he never recovered from the night he killed Hannah Myerson.”

“He made a mistake back then, didn't he?”

“He didn't know about DNA.”

“Yeah, not then, but he knew now and still screwed it up, didn't he? You're out here, wanting blood, but you can't have it without someone to tell you where to look. That's what your team is for. Maybe the answer isn't something they can dig up on a computer, but there's something. Some little piece someone overlooked.”

Gibbs thought about Dunn's files, but going through that would take days, and he didn't think that Dunn had the answer. If he'd had any way of proving things, he wouldn't be dead now. Malloy's family and their lawyers were a dead end.

They needed something _now._

He took out his phone, calling Abby. “Tell me you have something.”

“We found out that Stone worked for the locksmith called on the payphone.”

“Abby—”

“But so far, none of our searches has found anything in Stone's name or his dead wife's. He didn't buy or lease anywhere that he might have taken Jake. His employment record has a vacant lot—”

“I know. I'm looking at it.”

He swore he could hear her wince on the other end of the line. “Sorry, Gibbs. I'm sure you were hoping for the same thing we were, a place to find Jake. Because really, with his training, he could be anywhere, and we would never find him.”

Gibbs looked around the lot. “I need something. Some miniscule speck he left in the gun he killed Dunn with. Something on the statue. I don't care what it is. Give me something I can use to find Malloy before this psycho finishes what he started twenty years ago.”

“Gibbs, breathe,” Abby said. “And... can you please promise me that I won't be writing a forensic report like I did five years ago?”

He didn't want to make any such promise. He wasn't going to let Stone go twice. For what he'd done, that man was as good as dead. And if he'd hurt Malloy, Gibbs wouldn't hold back. Ben had been family. Gibbs had to do right by him, just as he'd done what he had to avenge Kelly and Shannon.

“I need to find him. Tell me what you've got.”

Abby sighed. “Well... I guess since McGee technically found it and just left with Tony and the same information... Stone's locksmith company used to use vans equipped with GPS before that became pretty much standard on all cellphones. They sold some of these vans off when they were looking to upgrade them, and they offered their employees first chance at them.”

“Stone bought one.”

“Yep, and while the GPS service is inactive, the transponder is not,” Abby told him. “We have a location on the van. Tony called for a roadblock outside the area, and I am sending you the coordinates now. Jake might not be there, so—”

“Thank you,” Gibbs told her, hanging up. He didn't even look at Fornell as he got back in the car.

* * *

“You are sick,” Jake said, shivering as he drew his legs up against himself. If he'd felt unclean before, now it was even worse, and he was cold on top of it, but he figured any attempt to tell Bruce that would lead to the man warming him in a way that would be worse than what he'd already done. He wished he could free himself, but if the last few hours were any indication, those ropes were not going to come loose. Ever.

“Ben, that's not necessary,” Bruce told him, patting his leg and making Jake squirm away. Bruce gave him a disappointed shake of his head. “You know you shouldn't be like this. I told you I had to see all that twenty years had changed.”

“Seeing involves your eyes. You were not just seeing. You... felt.”

Bruce smiled. “Are you ashamed of the way you look now, Ben? I think you've turned yourself into a bit of an athlete, which was somewhat surprising. I don't mind. The only thing that would have upset me is if you'd done something to those eyes of yours.”

Jake almost wished he had. “So, what, if I'd been fat or out of shape, you would have done the same thing to me?”

Bruce shrugged. “You're not either of those things, so what does it matter?”

“If you would have left me alone because of it, then it does. I would have made myself that way if I'd known it would keep your hands off of me,” Jake said, disgusted. He didn't think he ever wanted to be touched again.

Lifting up his knife, Bruce studied it. “I always wanted to mark you. To put something there that would tell everyone you were mine. I knew I'd touch it whenever we were together.”

“No,” Jake said, yanking on the ropes again, not caring about the pain. He needed to get free.

“I couldn't before, because it was a secret. Had to keep it from everyone. They couldn't know. Not Kristin—it was so much better after she died, wasn't it? And I almost did it then, but your mother was still alive, and worse than her—the Gibbs. Couldn't let them see. He'd have killed me with his bare hands. I think she would have, too.”

Jake wanted to. If he wasn't tied up, he would have tried.

“Now, though, it doesn't have to be a secret. They won't ever find you. I don't even think they're looking. So I can mark you and keep you forever.”

“No,” Jake said, pressing back against the wall. “You're wrong. Gibbs won't stop looking for me. And his team won't, either. Tony and McGee and Abby and Ducky... and my wife, when she gets out of the hospital. Fornell. Palmer, even, and Vance. They won't let you get away with this. Gibbs will find me. I know he will.”

Bruce turned to him in anger. “No. Gibbs will not come between us again. He can't ever take you from me. I'll make sure of that.”

* * *

Gibbs stopped the car just behind DiNozzo's, shutting off the engine and getting out of the car. He found his agents standing next to the van. Its back door was open, and while Gibbs didn't doubt that had made a very convenient vehicle for transporting Stone's victim, Malloy wasn't in it now.

“You just get here?”

DiNozzo shook his head. “Van was shut up when we got here. Tinted windows like that... we figured it was still possible someone was inside. Just got done opening the door when you pulled up.”

Fornell looked inside with a grimace. “Man lived in there, did he?”

“If this is his car, he hasn't gone far, not dragging Malloy with him,” Gibbs said. He turned his attention to the grass around them. “No sign of another vehicle. He has to be in one of these buildings.”

“That's what we figured, Boss, but we hadn't started a search yet,” McGee agreed. He held up his tablet. “All of them have been condemned. The neighborhood hasn't been occupied in years. There's no good way of knowing which house he would have picked.”

Gibbs frowned. “Malloy would have been a lot of dead weight. That had to show moving through here. Where's the trampled grass or disturbed dirt?”

“That one,” DiNozzo said, pointing to the lone house on the passenger side of the van. “If he covered his tracks after getting Jake inside, it would have been easier to do in the dirt than the grass, and none of those yards have beaten down grass like someone walked through and definitely not like someone dragged a body through it.”

“Malloy's not dead,” Gibbs snapped, taking out his gun and moving into the other yard. He walked up to the house, listening. The boards creaked under his feet, and the door moaned when he pushed it open. He moved into the kitchen, sweeping the room and moving on.

“Boss, you know you're not wearing a vest and you didn't wait for us to back you up—”

“Not now, DiNozzo,” Gibbs barked, stepping into the next room. He looked at the doorway and the stairs. His gut said stairs, and he took them, ignoring his knee as he started climbing them. He heard a crash, and he forced himself to go faster, running to the open doorway.

Malloy leaned against the far wall, breathing hard, his hands bound above his head. Blood spread across the floor next to him, spilling out of a cut in his side. Stone pulled himself up off the floor, shaking his head. Knife in hand, he started toward Malloy again.

“You shouldn't have done that, Ben.”

Malloy didn't lift his head. “Not letting you... mark me... not yours.”

“Drop it, Stone,” Gibbs ordered, pointing the gun at him. “Now.”

Stone turned. “Gibbs. Always a damned Gibbs in my way. If it wasn't your wife or your daughter, it was you. He was too good about hiding with them. Thought he was safe, that he could defy me, but it doesn't work like that. He was mine.”

“He was never yours,” Gibbs said, tempted to pull the trigger without a second warning. He didn't want to bring this bastard in. He wanted him dead. “Drop the knife.”

“You don't get to take him from me,” Stone said, lunging for Malloy. Gibbs fired, sending three rounds into Stone before he stopped, waiting to see if the bastard tried to move again.

“Damn,” DiNozzo said from behind him. “Malloy, you... You hit?”

Malloy didn't look at him. Didn't look at anyone.

“You already call the ambulance?” Gibbs asked as he holstered his gun, stepping around Stone's body to reach Malloy.

“Did as soon as we verified the van,” DiNozzo said. “Is it just the one cut? Did he get him before he went down?”

Gibbs took out his knife, reaching up to cut Malloy's hands free from the wall. The other man jerked away, hitting the wall and smearing blood across it. “Easy, Malloy. I just wanted to get you down so we could get you out of here. You willing to let me get the one off your feet?”

“Gibbs?”

“It's me,” Gibbs assured him. “I'm getting this rope off your legs. You just stay still so I don't accidentally cut you.”

Malloy whimpered, shuddering when Gibbs cut the rope to free his feet. He grimaced to see the remains of the other man's pants underneath them, even if that might have helped prevent some of the rubbing. The rest of them were missing, probably a scrap on the mess that was the floor. 

“Get a damned blanket,” Gibbs ordered, yanking off his jacket and putting it around Malloy's shaking shoulders, trying to cover as much of him as he could. “It's over. You hear me, Malloy? It's over. He's dead.”

“I'm sorry, Gibbs,” the other man said, not looking at him. “I wanted to tell you. I did. I wanted to tell you, but I couldn't.”

“It's okay,” Gibbs told him. He hadn't thought Malloy remembered anything. Every indication said he didn't, and his mother had said the same thing. Malloy had forgotten it all when he was still a kid. This wasn't his fault. “You didn't know.”

McGee ran back in with a blanket, holding it out to him. He must have gone for it when Stone first went down. “Here, boss.”

Gibbs moved the coat and put the blanket over Malloy, making sure it covered him. “All right, Malloy. You think you can stand up? We need to get you out of here.”

Malloy shook his head. “I wanted to tell you, but I was too scared. He said... He said in the beginning it was a secret, and he'd hurt anyone I'd told, but I didn't... I didn't like it, and I said... I just asked Kristin if she liked what he did to her, and she looked at me funny... I didn't... I didn't know, but then she died, and when he came back... he told me it was my fault. He'd killed her because I told her, and he said if I told anyone else, they'd die. He said he'd kill Shannon and Kelly and Maddie and my mom... I couldn't stop him, and after Kristin was dead it was worse, so much worse, but he'd kill them if I told, and I couldn't tell you.”

Gibbs wanted to shoot the bastard again. He wrapped his arms around Malloy, trying to comfort Ben because that was definitely who was talking now. “It wasn't your fault. You didn't kill her. He did, and he twisted that. He used it to hurt you.”

“I hated it,” Ben whispered. “I hated him, but he... he would have killed them. I... I almost told you when you came back, but then he came back, and I knew if you left again, he'd do it... He'd killed her when he was gone, and he could have gotten any of them like that... and sometimes he said... he said he'd wondered if it would be... if it would be good with Kelly... or Maddie... and I... I had to keep him from doing that...”

Gibbs pulled him closer. “Ben, you were... Damn it. Ben, if I'd known, I'd have killed him back then. I swear it. He wouldn't have hurt you twice.”

Ben looked up at him. “Do you hate me?”

“No. Absolutely not.”

He lowered his head again. “He was there that night. Mom was gone, but I didn't go to your house... Shannon kept asking me about the nightmares, and I couldn't keep lying to her. I didn't... If I told, he'd kill her, so I just... stayed home even when Mom was working late. I went to bed, and I woke up... he was in my room. He covered my mouth. After... I... I tried to get away, I ran, but he caught me, and he was on me. I couldn't get him off, and then Mom came home, and she tried to get him off, and he hit her. She came back, and he hit her again. Then he left and she was just screaming...”

“You don't have to do this now. We need to get you to the hospital, get that cut looked at and your hands—”

“He came back when she stopped screaming, and he said... He said he didn't have to kill me because I'd be good and wouldn't tell, but I had been and he still killed her... and I wasn't letting him do it again. I wanted him to kill me rather than... that. I didn't want it to hurt anymore. I didn't want to be special or to have to lie... I wanted it to stop hurting. He hit me, and I thought it was all over...”

“It is now, Ben,” Gibbs told him. “It is now.”


	11. Lingering Doubts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scenes in a hospital.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow... emotional fallout... it is very hard. I didn't know how to handle it. I think I had at least four false starts, multiple ones for the same scene, and I threw out a lot of what I tried to do here, backing it off to something like this because really, how does one cope with this?
> 
> (I actually wanted to end the story with Ducky's scene. He made a valid point that tied in my story title so well...)

* * *

“Hey, Bish,” Tony said, coming into her room. He held up some flowers before carrying them over to the table. He arranged them again, making sure they blocked the set from McGee, and then he turned to her, tilting his head to the side as he studied her. “Remember when Gibbs told you that getting shot wasn't the job?”

Ellie grimaced. She still felt like a fool for what happened—then and now. She shook her head. “Wasn't my intention. I never saw him until shot me. I had no idea he was in the apartment. I thought I heard something, but I didn't—”

“Don't beat yourself up,” Tony advised, giving her a look that she thought was a lot like pity. “He didn't come in behind you. He was probably lying in wait since the night before.”

“He was?” Ellie wasn't sure that was any better. She didn't know of many places in their little apartment where anyone could have hid. She or Jake should have seen this guy, and neither of them had. “I didn't see any sign of—”

“He didn't really leave much of one,” Tony said. Then he grimaced. “You probably don't want to think about where he must have been, either.”

She winced. He'd told her not to think about it, but of course she already had, and that led her to one of only a few places. She figured it was probably the closet, but that was still in a very disconcerting idea. “Our bedroom?”

“Really, Bishop, don't think about it,” Tony insisted, and then he made one of those exaggerated faces of his when he shuddered. “All the same... I think I might burn those sheets if you know what I mean.”

Ellie gagged. She would definitely do that, assuming she didn't have to turn them over for evidence or anything like that. She hoped not, but then... they might need everything they could get. She took a breath and let it out, preparing herself to ask the question that she was almost afraid to have answered.

“So, what do you say to a roommate?”

She sighed. She knew that she could barely move, and she wasn't sure how she'd manage at home, didn't want to think about going in the kitchen again, but it was too soon for this and she definitely didn't want anyone hovering. “Tony, even if my apartment is a crime scene, I'm not so sure I want to stay with you. Or McGee. Or Abby. Or—”

“I meant here,” Tony said, and she frowned until he added, “Docs figure on keeping you here for a while yet, right? And since someone else managed to get himself hurt—”

“You found Jake?”

“Ducky didn't tell you?” Tony winced. “Sorry. I thought you knew. I thought someone said something by now. We must have all figured someone else told you.”

Ellie hesitated, not sure she wanted to ask. “Tony, did this guy—”

“And here we are. Your brand new but slightly used and very familiar roommate,” Tony said, turning to the door. She turned to watch as another bed was wheeled in, needing to see Jake for herself. She was almost fortunate that she had been on enough drugs to keep her out of it, or she would have gone out of her mind with worry.

The orderlies brought the gurney over to the empty bed next to hers, lowering the rails and transferring Jake onto the other bed. One hung the IV bag on the stand and then put up the rail, adjusting Jake's arm so the line was straight. They pushed the gurney out of the room, leaving Jake behind.

He was alive. He was here. Here, yet completely out of her reach. 

She tried again to sit up, but the wound in her side stopped her, pain overwhelming her and forcing her back still. She hated this. They'd told her that the bullets missed everything vital. She was lucky, but she still couldn't get up and get where she needed to be. She hadn't been able to help find Jake, and now that he was here, she couldn't even touch him.

Tony touched her uninjured shoulder. “Most of the damage wasn't physical.”

She looked back at him, trying to understand what he meant.

“It could be ugly when he wakes up,” Tony said, and when she looked at him, he explained. “We're not really sure if he's going to wake up as Jake or as Ben.”

Ellie swallowed. “Jake... really is Ben?”

Tony nodded. “Yeah, he is. He... said as much when we found him, but McGee wanted to be sure. You know, like he was afraid that this guy holding him had confused the issue, but... no, Jake's DNA matches Ben's. They're the same person.”

Which was what Jake was so afraid of before he was taken. “I need to get closer.”

Tony hesitated. “You might want to hold off on that. He really doesn't want to be touched. And to be honest, it was kind of scary when he flipped out like that on the paramedics. I wasn't sure Gibbs was going to let them sedate him, but they did. Probably a good thing. That way he didn't have to be awake when they treated him.”

“I still need to be there,” she said. “Please, Tony. I promised him, and the last thing he saw before he was taken was me on the floor bleeding. He needs this.”

“All right.”

* * *

_“I'm sorry I got sick,” Ben said, staring at his hands and refusing to look at Shannon even as she wiped down his face. “I know you had plans.”_

_“They're not more important than this,” Shannon said, and Gibbs tried not to grunt. This was supposed to be their night alone. Kelly was at Maddie's already, and Ben's mother should have been home to take care of him. “What bothers me is that I'm pretty sure you knew hours ago you weren't feeling good and didn't tell us.”_

_“I didn't want to spoil the plans,” Ben insisted. “You wouldn't have wanted to send me home with Mom if I was sick and—”_

_“If you're sick, if you're hurt, you tell us,” Gibbs said. “Don't keep quiet.”_

_Ben turned away from them, and Shannon sighed. She leaned over and kissed his forehead._

_“Remember we love you,” she told him. “Now try and get some rest.”_

_She headed for the door, and Gibbs followed her, pausing in the doorway. He listened with a frown. Damn it, the kid was crying. He was going to talk some sense into that mother of his if it was the last thing he did._

* * *

“You didn't have to stay.”

Tony snorted, shaking his head at McGee. That was way too naïve of him, and he should have been past that by now, way past it. “We don't know what's going to happen when he wakes up, and I know you saw what I saw.”

McGee nodded. “I did, but we don't know that it's going to happen again. We're still not sure of all that Stone did to Jake while he had him, and that could just have been him reacting to the stress of his kidnapping. And the memories.”

Tony nodded, but that was the trouble, wasn't it? No one had any idea just how bad that was going to screw with Jake's head, having those memories come back. Hell, should they even be calling him Jake? Or was he Ben now?

“Any sign of Gibbs?”

McGee shook his head. “Haven't seen him since we got to the hospital.”

Tony frowned. Where the hell was he? Sure, the man didn't like hospitals, but he should be here. Jake was Ben, a kid that was like family to him, and that kid had been through a nightmare—not once, but twice, at least. They didn't know enough about Malloy to know what had happened in between when he was adopted and when he was kidnapped, but it wasn't like they hadn't found him in really bad shape.

“What about Ducky? I thought he was here, but when I came to tell Bishop they were moving Jake into her room, Ducky was gone and hadn't even told her that Jake had been found.”

McGee shrugged. “I'm not sure. I think Abby is with Maddie, or maybe she's just in her lab trying to get through all of the stuff we brought in as quick as possible so none of us have to deal with it anymore. She does still have to prove that Stone killed Myerson and Dunn.”

Tony knew that, and he knew they were also fortunate that Stone was dead. Even with Abby's forensics, a trial would have been a disaster. The whole case would have come apart because Gibbs had the witness investigating it without the witness knowing he was the witness.

Tony's head hurt with the thought.

He heard a noise and looked over to the hospital beds. Bishop was still out thanks the move and her pain meds, but it seemed that Jake's sedation was about to wear off. Tony nudged McGee, and the other man gave him a look.

Jake bolted up in the hospital bed, eyes searching the room in a panic.

“Easy,” Tony told him. “You're at the hospital. Bethesda, actually. Not a bad place to go if you have to be in the hospital. Not that any of us go by choice.”

Jake didn't answer, reaching up to touch his face, pulling back from his hand when the finger cast brushed his skin. “My glasses.”

Tony turned to McGee. The other man shook his head. “We never found them. We're not sure what happened to them. They weren't in the apartment or the van or that house.”

Jake sighed. He moved his hand along the bed until it bumped the other. Frowning, he stared at the side rail of Bishop's bed like he didn't understand what he was seeing.

“Maybe we should call _him_ Magoo,” Tony said. Jake didn't seem to be able to see much at all without his glasses. Or maybe that was the psychological trauma. He played racquetball, didn't he? What if the glasses broke?

“Vision... spotty,” Jake said, swallowing. “Going to puke.”

“Don't do it on Bishop,” Tony told him. “That whole sickness and health thing—pretty sure it doesn't cover being puked on.”

Jake's hand went out to the other bed, shaking as it did. “Ellie?”

Well, he remembered Bishop. That was something. So far he seemed a lot better than he had been before, but that didn't mean that this couldn't get ugly fast. Tony watched him, waiting, but when his fingers touched Bishop's arm, Jake jerked back again, making the beds bump together.

Bishop groaned, starting to push herself up in her bed. She grimaced, her hand going to the wound in her shoulder. “Remind me never to get shot again.”

Jake lowered his head, making a strangled sort of noise, and she frowned, looking over at him with concern.

“Jake?”

Malloy shook, not lifting his head to look at her. “He told me you were dead.”

Bishop winced, not the only one to do so. She reached over to touch his face, her face showing the pain she was trying to ignore. “He was lying. Look at me. I'm here. I'm not dead. This is real. Please, Jake, look at me.”

He did, still shaking, eyes wet with tears. “He said you were dead and it was my fault.”

Tony flinched, looking at McGee who was a bit pale. Stone was sick, and he was lucky he was already dead, because Tony wanted to make him pay for that. First he'd made Ben think that those murders were his fault, scaring the boy into giving him whatever he wanted, and then he'd tried to start all over with Jake, telling him that Bishop was dead. 

“I'm alive,” Bishop insisted. “I may even owe that to you.”

“What?”

She shifted, trying to get closer to Jake. “He fired that second shot when he went for you, and you tried to fight him off. I doubt a trained marine meant to hit my side.”

Jake shuddered again, and she sighed, putting her hand to his face. Tony tensed, but Jake didn't jump away from her and freak out like he had the last time he was touched. He took her hand and lowered it before lying back down, his eyes on her.

“I didn't think I would ever see you again.”

Bishop nodded. “I was afraid of the same thing. I couldn't stop him from taking you. I'm sorry. I didn't see him.”

“It's not your fault, either,” McGee told her, and Tony elbowed him. He frowned.

“Quit interrupting the moment.”

“I'm not interrupting anything,” McGee said, and Tony rolled his eyes only to have Jake rush to the other side of his bed and hurl all over the floor. “I suppose he did warn us.”

Bishop looked at them, frowning. “He warned you?”

“Said his vision was spotty, too.”

She grimaced. “He's got one of his migraines. Can you find the doctor? He has a prescription for them, and if they give him that, it should help.”

“On it,” Tony and McGee said, both of them heading for the door.

* * *

_“Benjamin Jacob Myerson, what do you think you're doing?”_

_Ben winced. His mother never used his full name unless he was in trouble, and she shouldn't even be home for him to be in trouble, but he was. He'd thought she had to work all day, and if she did, then she'd never know he'd stayed home instead of going to Bruce's house like she said he was supposed to. He would have gone to the Gibbs' or even the Taylor's, but Shannon had taken both girls to some school thing he didn't have because he wasn't in their grade._

_“I wasn't doing anything, Mom. I promise.”_

_She folded her arms over her chest. “Why is it you always behave for Shannon Gibbs but not for me? I'm your mother, you know.”_

_He didn't tell her he wished she wasn't. Then she really would send him to Bruce, and he didn't ever want to go back there. “I'll make you a paper bird. That okay?”_

_His mother laughed, wrapping her arms around him. “Sometimes I forget you're the best thing that ever happened to me.”_

_Ben frowned, looking around and wondering just who she'd said that for._

* * *

“So... do we call him Jake or Ben?”

“I thought we established that he woke up as Jake earlier,” McGee said with a frown, turning to Tony. Abby watched them, not sure she liked this, either. Bishop and Jake were asleep next to each other and looking completely adorable again—if it could be adorable when she'd been shot and he'd been kidnapped. The hospital thing made it a lot less adorable.

“Yeah, but he was so Ben back at the house, and there's no telling how badly this screwed with him,” Tony said. “Come on, McHappy Ending. Do you actually think he can just wake up and be fine?”

“Obviously,” McGee said with little patience, “he wasn't. He had a couple of what could be considered panic attacks—first when he couldn't find his glasses and then again when he thought Bishop was dead. Then he had that migraine and the stuff they gave him for it knocked him out again. He did remember being Jake, though.”

“What do you think, Abs?”

“I think I want to go down to Ducky's lab and desecrate Stone's body,” Abby admitted. “He was evil, doing what he did, and there's a part of me that's afraid I'll get back to my lab and find he left his DNA at more crime scenes. Ones with little kids like Ben.”

Tony grimaced. “You know what? If that happens, I'm with you. I wish I'd shot him when Gibbs did. He was blocking my shot, though.”

“I did match his DNA to Dunn and Myerson. He definitely killed them,” Abby said. “At least we know we have him for that. I just wish we knew how to help Jake.”

“Or Ben.”

“And Ben,” Abby corrected before Tony and McGee could start arguing again. “One way or another, Ben is a part of Jake. And he'll have to live with the memories, not only of what Stone did when he abducted him but also what he did to Ben.”

“Therapy. Lots and lots of therapy,” Tony said with a grimace. “And still no Gibbs? Really? Something is wrong.”

McGee nodded. “He should be here. Even if it was just Bishop in there, he should have come by and seen her by now.”

“Only we have Jake in there who is also Ben who was like a son to Gibbs. It's just wrong that he's not here.”

Abby bit her lip. “Maddie did want to know if she could talk to Jake, apologize. I felt so bad. I wanted to tell her that she wasn't wrong about him, but we had only just gotten him back when she asked, and I wasn't sure what shape he was in.”

“We still don't know that,” Tony said. “Though I think we can lift the gag order there. She doesn't need all the details, but we can tell her that Stone killed Myerson. Maybe that Jake is Ben.”

“It's not going to be a secret forever, Tony.”

“I'm trying to be sensitive here,” Tony protested. “Jake's in a delicate place now. Remember how he reacted when she said that? And that was before he was abducted and apparently tortured into remembering everything. You think he wants to sit down and chit chat with someone about those old times? Maddie's a reminder of everything he wanted to forget.”

“So's Gibbs. You think he should be here.”

“That's different. Gibbs opened up this can of worms. Rule forty-five. Clean up your mess.”

* * *

_“What does MIA mean?”_

_Gibbs almost swore when he heard the question. Damn it. Damn them. Didn't anyone realize that this kid had ears? Ben saw plenty, heard more, and he wasn't stupid. He knew something was wrong, but no one had bothered to tell him that his father was missing. That was so stupid it had to be Hannah Myerson's idea._

_“It means 'missing in action.' They don't know where your father is.”_

_Ben bit his lip. “Is that any different from how it's always been? Mom's acting all weird, but we've never really known where he was.”_

_Again, Ben was more perceptive than he should have been. Gibbs nodded. “It is. Normally when your father leaves, they don't tell you where he's going, but the corps knows. This time the corps doesn't know.”_

_“Does that mean... he won't ever come back?”_

_“It might.”_

_Ben nodded, taking that better than most kids twice his age would. “Does that mean... you could be my father?”_

_Gibbs started to say it didn't work like that, but when he looked at those eyes, at the desperate plea in them, he pulled Ben into his arms and said nothing._

* * *

“I thought I might find you here.”

Jethro grunted, not looking up from his task. The sander moved against the wood with a vicious force, more the work of the other man's anger than an actual drive to complete his project. Some would have gone to the shooting range, others would have cleaned their weapons over and over, and still others would have gone to a gym to vent their frustrations. Jethro, though, was a creature of habit, and his habit was right here in his own basement.

Ducky took the last step down, crossing toward the boat. “You should be at the hospital.”

“No, I shouldn't,” Jethro snapped, moving the sander even faster than before. “He doesn't need me there.”

“How can you say that?” Ducky asked. “Of course he needs you, now more than ever. This does not end because you put two bullets into Bruce Stone. For Jakob, the nightmare is quite possibly just beginning. Not only did he endure the trauma of being kidnapped and assaulted, he has had his entire life turned upside down. Other equally traumatic memories have been ripped from behind the walls he erected to protect himself, leaving him with almost nothing.”

“The hell do you expect me to do about that?” Jethro demanded. “I don't do hugs and feelings. Damn it, I am the one who ruined his life.”

Ducky frowned. “You believe bringing his mother's killer to justice ruined his life?”

“You just said that.”

“No, I said it was turned upside down. His sense of identity has been challenged. He has lost much of his support system and his coping mechanisms, but he is not entirely lost,” Ducky said. “That is why he needs you.”

“He didn't need this. Malloy had a good life. He had a career. His marriage had its ups and downs, but it wasn't over. He was doing fine until I dragged his mother's death out of cold storage. I made him a part of his worst nightmare and put him in the path of a killer.”

“Yes, but at the time, you were not certain that Jakob was Benjamin, were you?” Ducky countered. “You did not know he would be at risk, no matter how similar the resemblance. We did not even know that he was the intended target until far late in our investigation—which, actually, was the course of four days. Things escalated in a way that could not be predicted, not when so much was unknown, including the boy's fate.”

“Doesn't excuse it,” Gibbs said. “If I wanted to help Ben, I should have done it back then. I should have stopped Stone from ever putting his hands on him.”

Ducky sighed. “You did all you could, Jethro. The boy did not tell you what Stone had done, and he seemed innocent of his wife's murder because he'd been deployed at the time. Without Benjamin's testimony to say that Stone had killed his wife or that he'd hurt him, what did you have? You did your best to get Benjamin to tell you what happened, but Stone's grip on that poor child was too strong. He manipulated him into keeping silent by threatening the people he loved most, and Stone had already proven that he would kill to keep this thing a secret. Worse, though, was that he convinced the boy that it was his fault that woman had died. He set the boy up to think that even if he did come forward, it would cost him everything.”

Jethro shook his head. “Shooting him was too easy.”

“I concur. He did not suffer half as much as his victims. Oh, Dunn's death was instantaneous, but it is likely that his wife was sick for hours before she died. We know how brutal the death of Hannah Myerson was, and in many ways, Benjamin suffered more than all of them.”

Jethro threw the sander. “I should have been able to protect him.”

“I fear you may never believe you did enough in that regard,” Ducky agreed unhappily. “Yet I think you have failed to consider the possibility that Benjamin needed this case brought to light as much as you did.”

“How the hell do you figure that?”

“Benjamin was the victim of a predator. He chose the boy because he had a vulnerable home situation. He was lonely, dependent on his neighbors for care and many of his basic needs. He was a shy, obedient child, which unfortunately made him perfect for this man's plans. He trusted adults, did as they said, perhaps even as a way to make himself desirable to other families because his own was so lacking. He was soon trapped by that obedience, as he believed the adult telling him not to tell. Then when he did, and the person he told was killed. He believed this was his fault, further trapping him. He felt that telling anyone would result in their deaths. The shame, guilt, and fear made him stay quiet when he desperately needed to speak out. He blamed himself for what Stone did—all of what Stone did. Then his mother died, another death that he felt responsible for.” Ducky shook his head. “That is a terrible burden for a child, one he could never be free of so long as Stone went unpunished, his crimes hidden from the world. Ben needed to be freed of that pain. He needed you to do this.”

“He didn't even remember that, Ducky. He was fine.”

“Was he?” Ducky asked. “Tell me, Jethro, do you actually believe that he was?”


	12. Finding Some Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake and Ellie have some visitors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think there may only be one more part to this. I would like to leave it where healing starts and show some hope for the future and let it be done.
> 
> Knowing me, I'd come back to the idea sometime, but they could all use some closure and peace.

* * *

Telling himself it wasn't real lost more than half its effectiveness when Jake couldn't be sure his dreams _weren't_ real. All of the pieces were still jumbled, a lot of them such a mess that it made his head throb even trying to sort them out, and since none of it was clear, there was no convincing himself that what he'd seen in that last nightmare hadn't been horribly real.

He looked over at Ellie again, waiting until he saw her blanket rise and fall with her breathing until he could calm himself. She hadn't been in the dream, but that didn't matter. He needed to see her, to know she was there, to find something to ground him. Ellie was that, though she deserved to be much more than a strange security blanket.

He fought the urge to reach over and confirm what he'd seen with a touch. He'd probably wake her, drugs or not, and if he hadn't done it with that nightmare, he wouldn't let himself do it with his hand. The need to touch her was exaggerated, and he would be fine if he didn't.

He snorted. Fine. Like he had any idea what that was anymore.

Reality itself felt broken, and he didn't know how to think or how to feel. He thought half of him might be numb, another large part of him still somehow in denial, and the rest of him was too confused. His mind was too fragmented to put the whole of it together, and so he drifted from the various pieces, mostly in the numb part that didn't function at all, though he preferred that one to the one that was afraid of everything and the one that just wanted to curl up and cry—which were even almost tame when he thought about the other one.

He eyed his IV again, knowing that was a dangerous thing for him to have right now.

He almost woke Ellie, shaken by where his mind had taken that and how easy it would be. Increase the drip and then...

Jake reached over to yank the tube out, and a hand covered his. He looked up, not sure how he'd missed someone else in the room, half-expecting it to be Gibbs but he wouldn't have been surprised if it was Tony or McGee or Abby—anyone on Ellie's team.

“Mom?”

She let out a breath when he said it, lacking her normal composure. “I wasn't so sure you'd still want to call me that.”

Jake grimaced. He still didn't know what he felt about that. He knew there were thousands of kids who were adopted and never knew, not until later, sometimes not at all. He hadn't suspected it, not before Dunn and the case.

“You... still feel more like my mother,” Jake managed to say. It was true. When he pictured his mother, he saw Constance. Even in his mind, Hannah was Ben's mom. He didn't know what that said about him since he was Ben, but there were some lines that didn't blur at all, and that seemed to be one of them. “She... It's not that she doesn't seem real. It's that she...”

“Was never there,” Constance said. She shook her head. “I always thought that about Frannie. That she was somewhere just out of reach. She came by when she needed something, and even in giving it to her, I never felt as though we ever connected, like the transfer had gone by proxy even if it was in the same room, face-to-face. It was almost easy to accept Father's edict that she didn't exist.”

“Frannie?”

“Her name was Francis. Francis Hannah Wilder. Better known as Frannie. I didn't lie to Gibbs when I told him I didn't know a Hannah who'd gotten herself in trouble. I didn't.” Constance shrugged. “I doubt that's what you want to know.”

“I don't know that I want to know anything,” Jake admitted, feeling sick again. He pulled his hand away from his mother's. “I should, I know that, but I...”

“You don't have to ask.”

Jake shook his head. He couldn't pretend he didn't know, and he couldn't ignore it, even if that seemed easier. If he could forget again—but he couldn't, and he didn't think that anyone would let him if he tried.

Except...

“Did you... Did you do anything to Irene to keep her from helping us?”

His mother's eyes snapped open, staring at him. “Jakob Benjamin Malloy, how can you ask me that? I know I am not perfect, that I... You can hate me for what I did, and I know I have to accept that. I know that. I did not do it to hurt you. I would never do anything to hurt you, and I know how much Irene meant to you.”

“You were afraid of me remembering.”

She nodded. “I was, and I am, but killing Irene wouldn't have stopped that. I knew, when you came to the house with Gibbs that it would all come out. I'm not an idiot. He knew—he proved that when he showed up the next day demanding the truth.”

Gibbs had known. Jake had figured he did, but Jake hadn't. He hadn't, even when he was trapped in that room with Bruce.

His mother touched his hand again. “Why did you try and pull out your IV?”

Jake looked at her, swallowing. Sometimes she knew him too well, and he hated it. “Mom...”

“Twenty years I've been afraid of this, afraid if the memories came back...” She didn't finish, closing her eyes instead. Her hand went to her necklace, shaking. It wasn't like her to show that much. His mother was too strong, too dignified for that.

He knew something else, too, even though he couldn't remember it. “I... He... There was... an attempt before?”

“A jump off a third story balcony,” she answered, shuddering. Jake frowned. That didn't sound right. That couldn't have happened. “Fortunately, the injuries were minor, but it was... terrifying. At that point, we were desperate. Weeks of nightmares, of screaming and starvation, and then an attempt at suicide—we would have done anything. I wanted to help, had to, and I did believe I was. That I'd done the only thing I could.”

Jake swallowed. He still didn't know how to react to any of this. “I... There are...” 

His mother looked at him. “I knew that Frannie had let her son be raised by the neighbors. Even though I didn't want to do it, I was ready to give him up to them. I would have, if I thought it was the right thing for him. By then, though, Shannon and Kelly Gibbs were dead. Giving such a traumatized child to a man lost to grief seemed criminal. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe that would have been better, maybe I was selfish. Maybe I should never have listened to that psychiatrist.”

Jake put a hand to his head. “I thought you hated shrinks.”

“I hate modern dependency on therapy and the way too many of our acquaintances use it as a way to excuse their problems and whine about their lives,” his mother said. She reached over to touch his cheek. “I love you. I always have, from the moment I first met you. Yes, that was eight years overdue, and yes, I could have done more before then, should have... I did what I thought was best. I may have made it worse. I don't know.”

“I... I don't remember any of that—any of the time after...” Jake tried to find the right words to explain. His head was throbbing again. “The statue comes down... and then...”

“Shh, sweetheart,” his mother said. “Don't fight it. Please.”

Jake really didn't have the energy to do that anyway. He was going to have to try and rest again. “Mom, I—”

“You are in way too much pain for this now,” she said, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. Then she squeezed his hand. “You rest. Both of you.”

* * *

_“When I get older, I'm going to find someone who loves me as much as Daddy loves you,” Kelly said, and Shannon smiled down at her, ruffling her hair. Gibbs smiled at both of them. He knew any man that got his daughter was going to have to be damned special—or just damned lucky that Gibbs hadn't killed him first._

_“Yes, you will,” Shannon agreed, smiling when Gibbs looked at her. Oh, she would say it later, that Kelly already had that person, but he didn't think that either of the kids saw the other that way. Shy as Ben was, he probably wouldn't date anyone until he was in college, which was fine with Gibbs._

_“Can he be a prince, too? Because princes get the cool horses.”_

_Gibbs stared at his daughter, but Shannon just laughed._

* * *

“I hear we just missed the dragon lady.”

Ellie shook her head. Her mother-in-law was not that bad, though she'd been a little concerned when she first met her. Constance had seemed cold and disapproving. Ellie had figured that Jake's family hated her, though she wasn't that surprised—not by that at least. As soon as she realized that Jake hadn't gone to that house to see someone that worked there and was actually there because his family owned that mansion, she'd known she didn't belong. The amount of money his family had made her uncomfortable, at least at first. She hadn't known how to act around them, which wasn't helped by the fact that Jake was very nervous around them, too.

Things were different now, of course, and she didn't think that Constance was pleased with her decision to leave her job at the NSA and join NCIS. She also had to believe that her mother-in-law blamed her for the problems in their marriage, just like her family tended to put the blame on Jake.

“She's more of a mama bear,” Ellie corrected. “You do not want to mess with Constance Malloy when it comes to her children.”

“And someone did?” McGee asked, frowning.

Ellie nodded. “The doctor seemed to think that all Jake needed for his migraine was an increase in his IV painkillers, even though I know I told him that Jake has to be on his preventative medication. The last time they took him off it, it was bad.”

“Define bad,” Tony said, folding his arms over his chest and eying her.

“Remember when you had to take in that witness because I had a husband with the stomach flu?” Ellie asked, and Tony winced. “That is still the worst I've ever seen a migraine, but considering that Jake has had them all his life—all his life as Jake, at least—”

“They might have started because of the head wound that put him into a coma or the memories that he repressed, which are no longer repressed,” McGee said. He looked over at Jake's bed. “Did his mother get the medication fixed?”

“Yes, after threatening to have us both moved to private care,” Ellie said with a grimace. She didn't want to be in the hospital, but she also didn't want to be in the care of a private team. She wanted to be home—no, she didn't because she didn't want to be in her apartment, but she didn't want to be here. She wanted to be able to move without pain, and she wanted to get Jake out of here, too.

She didn't even know how to handle that or him. The most important part, she knew, was keeping her word about not leaving him because he was Ben—and was that something that he felt because Ben thought he'd been abandoned or because of the guilt he felt? Every little thing created more questions and doubts and... changed everything.

“Something wrong, Bishop?”

She sighed. “Just some logistical issues. I'm not sure what to do after any of this, and I can't just ignore it because it'll still be a while before Jake and I are released—”

“On the whole, his wounds were minor,” McGee said. “No permanent damage to his vocal chords or the nerves, just the bruising which apparently looks a lot worse than it is. One broken finger, abrasions on his wrists and ankles. Those would have been worse if he'd been held for longer, but we were able find him in time.”

“You're leaving out the mark Stone decided to make on him,” Tony said, and Ellie frowned. “Yeah, you can't see that because it was on his side, but it was bleeding pretty bad when we found him even though Jake apparently managed to kick the bastard off of him. It did need stitches.”

She reached over to take Jake's hand again. He should never have been through that. She did still blame herself.

“Anyway, we should probably head out,” McGee said. “Maddie's award ceremony is tonight, and we all agreed to be there. We're meeting Abby there—she said she had to change first—and we said we'd swing by and check on you again.”

“You want my permission to tell Maddie Jake is Ben.”

Tony shrugged. “We don't actually need your permission.”

“It just seemed like it might be a bit of a sensitive issue, but Maddie was friends with him, and she would like to know what happened to him. We don't actually have to tell her about the kidnapping, but we could let her know he was adopted into a good family and became a successful lawyer.”

“It was a good family, right?” Tony asked. “The dragon lady—”

“Mama bear,” McGee corrected. 

“Or maybe something more... regal,” Ellie said. “Some kind of cat? She's refined, but she's also very dangerous.”

“I bet.”

“Shut up, DiNozzo.”

Instead of doing what Gibbs said, Tony faced him, folding his arms over his chest. “About time you showed up. Where have you been? You didn't even call to make sure Abby had all the forensics or Bishop woke up after surgery.”

Gibbs ignored him. “How are you feeling, Bishop?”

“Sore,” Ellie answered. “And very, very stupid. I didn't see him coming.”

“You weren't the only one that missed it,” Gibbs said, and she knew he wasn't even talking about now. He meant missing what happened to Ben when he was a kid. “He wake up yet?”

“He's been in and out, Boss.”

“He'll probably be awake later if you want to come back after Maddie's ceremony,” Ellie said, and Gibbs gave the other men a look.

“We were actually about to go,” McGee told him. “So... um... we're going and we'll see you there. Or... not.”

Ellie watched the others leave, forcing a smile. “I would offer to leave you alone with him, since I am almost certain you don't want an audience, but it's not really something I've managed to do yet. Leave the bed, I mean. I'm doing better at sitting up. OF course... There's always waiting for the painkillers to kick in and—”

“Bishop,” Gibbs said, and she nodded, not saying another word.

* * *

_“Do you ever think about running away?” Kelly asked, and Gibbs stopped, frowning. Since when did his kids want to run off on him? Kelly was happy, wasn't she? When the hell had that changed? “Having adventures? Seeing the world?”_

_“That's movie stuff,” Ben said. “It's not like that.”_

_“You're a scaredy cat.”_

_Ben sighed. “No, I'm not. Kids get hurt running away. Bad hurt. It's not a good thing to do.”_

_Since when did Ben know all that? And why? Had he actually thought about running away? Hannah wasn't much of a mother, after all. Maybe he wanted to get away from her. Gibbs wouldn't blame him for that._

_“Okay,” she said, an eyeroll in her voice. “If you did run away—because it was safe and you could have an adventure, where would you go?”_

_“There's no point in going anywhere,” Ben said. “If I ran away, they'd know where to find me.”_

_Kelly frowned. “Why would they know that?”_

_“Because if I ran, I'd be right here,” Ben said, and Gibbs found himself smiling._

* * *

Gibbs knew as soon as he heard the awards ceremony that it was a place he should probably be, but then he'd been there for Maddie when she needed him. He'd come through. DiNozzo had dragged them both out of that water, but Gibbs had held up his end of the deal. Even now, he didn't think he'd done that for Ben.

The two names and seemingly two different lives had a way of making that confused. If he accepted the idea that Ben died with Hannah, then there was no denying it—Gibbs had flat out failed him. He might have saved Jake from dying at Stone's hands, but he hadn't kept him safe, either. Since they were actually the same person, Gibbs had failed him more than once.

Killing Stone wasn't enough.

Malloy stirred, leaning up and looking over at the other bed. He watched Bishop, tense, and then let out a breath and started to sit back. He stopped, repeating the whole thing, hand moving toward her and then pulling back.

“She's alive. Painkillers knocked her out about ten minutes ago.”

Malloy jerked at the sound of his voice. “Don't... Please don't do that again. I didn't know you were there, and that... It really isn't okay right now.”

Gibbs nodded. He didn't think it would be for a long time. He forced himself up from the chair, crossing over to stand by the bed. He wouldn't make this easy on himself. He wouldn't do it from a shadowed corner or resting his knee.

“I'm sorry.”

“Okay, I think I'm dreaming,” Malloy said. “Doesn't that violate some rule? Oh... I remember. It's... a sign of weakness.”

“Then it's a sign of weakness,” Gibbs said, getting a frown in return. “I have them. Don't admit to them, but they exist. Missed a hell of a lot with you. No excuse for that.”

“I almost want to ask you if you're talking to Ben or to me,” Malloy said. He reached up and rubbed his head. “Only... I am him... and I'm not... It's... confusing. Some parts are so... distinct and separate. They're someone else's life. Others.... seem to blur.”

Gibbs had no idea how to handle that mental and emotional stuff. He didn't bother trying. “I broke my word to you. I told you that you could tell me anything, but you still didn't feel like you could.”

Malloy looked away. “That... That was fear. Mostly. He... I... Ben trusted you. I trusted you. I still do. I knew you'd come. I just...”

“He threatened Shannon and Kelly, and you were afraid I wouldn't be there to save them if he went after them. He'd killed Kristin when he wasn't even there.”

Malloy shook his head. “It's not an excuse. It... If I'd said something, I could have made it so he didn't hurt anyone. I didn't. I don't know if I ever would have. If he hadn't killed Hannah...”

“You don't know what would have happened. In some ways, you got lucky. Your mother is a piece of work, and her sister was, too, but you got a much better one the second time around. Not sure I agree with what she did, but she gave you something her sister never did—a stable home. She may have been there too much when Hannah was never around.”

“I know. Even now, Hannah... She doesn't feel like a mom, like my mom. That is Constance. And it is so weird calling her that because she's always been Mom. I don't feel that way about anyone else. Though... Ben did want Shannon for a mom. He almost called her that more than once. He tried to cover by saying Mrs. Gibbs.”

That made Gibbs smile despite the rest of the conversation. It was damned weird hearing Malloy talk about himself in the third person, even if Ben was almost a separate personality in many ways. “People immediately say Ben was like a son to us. And we did take him in and raise him. He spent more time with us than anyone.”

“Only you think if you'd actually considered him a son, you would have been able to save him from Stone. That you would have known and gone after him before he killed Hannah.”

Gibbs nodded. He'd killed for Shannon and Kelly. He hadn't even tried to find Ben, not for over twenty years.

“And you think that letting him go means... you didn't care?”

“Damn it, Malloy. You make it sound worse, and it was bad enough to begin with. Listen to me—it wasn't anything Ben did. That you did. It wasn't your fault that Stone chose you or that he made you so scared to tell that you kept quiet. Anyone would have done that. You deserved a hell of a lot better than what you got. From your mother. From me. Hell, even from Shannon. We let you down. All of us,” Gibbs said, not sure when he'd gotten this vocal about it, but he'd be damned if he let Bruce Stone win by convincing the kid he wasn't worth anything even now, that he was somehow to blame when this was all Stone. 

“I don't—”

“I lost Shannon. I lost Kelly. I lost... myself. I killed the man that killed them, but it didn't bring me any peace. I didn't acknowledge that part of my life just like you let go of being Ben. I didn't look for Ben because he reminded me of them, and it hurt too damn much.”

Malloy shook his head. “I... I almost want to laugh, and I know it's inappropriate, but I just got the 'it's not you, it's me' speech from Leroy Jethro Gibbs. It's funny, in a messed up way. Then again, I'm not sure anything about me is close to sane anymore. My head is like some kind of nightmare.”

Gibbs watched him. “They'll recommend therapy.”

“Which really helped last time,” Malloy muttered. Gibbs frowned. “My mom told me he recommended burying the memories. I think. She... didn't actually say it, but that's what I got from what she said. You... confronted her?”

“She told me what she'd done and why.”

Malloy closed his eyes. “She told me... she didn't have anything to do with Irene's death.”

“Ducky swears it was a heart attack. I don't like coincidences—”

“Gibbs, Irene had to know. About me. She was Billington's secretary back then. She would have typed the paperwork for him. She... She knew all along. She... never said anything. She... was nice and gave me books. I... She knew what I was and—”

“You were always a good kid. What Stone did doesn't change that.”

Shifting in the bed, Malloy flinched when he hit his side. “I... I think maybe we should consider this conversation... done.”

“Like hell it is.”

“My head hurts again, and I don't want to do this. Remembering hurts.”

Gibbs could tell he was hurting, and it was more than a headache. “You have somewhere you're planning on going when you get out of here? And don't say the apartment. That's not going to happen.”

“I don't know. My parents own property in DC. I guess we could use it.”

Gibbs nodded. That would solve it, but somehow he made the offer anyway. “You could stay with me. You and Bishop.”

“I... Are you sure about that, Gibbs?” Malloy asked, doubtful. “I don't... That can't be a good idea. For any of us.”

Gibbs grunted. It wasn't, but he had a big enough house, both of them were injured, and making up for failing Ben back then did not end with killing Stone. That didn't do a damned thing if Malloy decided the nightmare in his head was too much and found a way to make it stop. Gibbs would have failed both him and Bishop then.

“You're coming with me this time.”


	13. Steps Forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake and Ellie stay with Gibbs and everyone starts recovering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gave a lot of thought to what I might do to continue the story, and I came back to the conclusion that I'd reached before. I like ending stories with a bit of hope (when I'm not being evil and doing cliffhangers) and I think that this story is better served if I do end it. I am by no means saying that everyone is okay and that they don't have a long way to go yet, but what I do believe is that I would ruin things by attempting to shove all of that recovery in here. This part is about finding Ben and learning what happened to him.
> 
> I think another story would better take on the role of more recovery, and if I can find a good case idea to mix that with, I might try it, but this has drained me a lot, and I'm ready to let its hold on me ease for now. I need to finish my other story and then I can think about sequels. And I know that there are many neglected BSG series that I haven't done. Jake would probably prefer it if I went back to them since he seems to always end up abducted/hurt in my NCIS stuff.

* * *

“There is a part of me that says we should have taken the DC house,” Jake said, eying the bedroom they'd been given with apprehension. He looked like he wanted to run from the room, but then, from what she could tell, that expression was almost permanent these days. So were a lot of other things that worried her. She'd never known Jake to be a turtleneck man, but since he got out of the hospital, it was all he seemed to wear, covering over the bruise on his neck and the marks around his wrist. He didn't want anyone seeing what Stone had done—and he wanted people touching him even less than that.

She tried to hold herself back because he seemed to _endure_ it rather than want it, even when she was using it to comfort him. Even now, wanting to reach out to him, she didn't think she should.

“You didn't want to use your family's DC house when we were between apartments,” Ellie reminded him, and they were going to have to find something else because she still couldn't face going into her own kitchen. If it was that bad for her, it had to be ten times worse for him. She should be able to make herself do it, but she couldn't. She had actually been inside the apartment—with help from DiNozzo and McGee who got her up to the door, but that was as far as she went.

Which was half the reason this room was a mess. She should have been able to supervise the packing, even help a little, but she hadn't, and until Abby took over for the boys, it was looking like a complete disaster.

Jake sat down on the edge of the bed, looking at his hands. “Using the house would be like saying I forgive them.”

Ellie frowned. “I thought you did.”

“I don't know what I did. Or how I feel,” Jake said. “There is a part of me that feels like they're strangers. And a part of me that feels betrayed, lied to all my life, and then... there's the part that knew even after my grandfather disinherited me that I still loved them even if there was this... distance between us.”

She tried to sit up, grimacing as she did. Her side was killing her, and she didn't like that Jake was more mobile than she was. She didn't want to, but almost every time he talked, he admitted to something that was hurting him. She knew that she couldn't come close to knowing what it was like for him, and she couldn't take that pain away. The drugs didn't do that, either. Maybe they dulled it or made him sleepy, but even sleep wasn't any kind of freedom from it. His nightmares would wake her even with her medication. With all of that, her mind kept going to statistics she wished she'd never learned, ones that scared her if she applied them to Jake's situation.

She covered her side, moving closer to him. She wasn't even sure what to say.

He looked at her. “You're supposed to be resting.”

“I can't rest any more than you can,” she told him. “My mind wants to be working—”

“And it's trying to work on me, isn't it?” Jake asked, wincing. “Ellie, you can't... fix me. I'm not sure anything can.”

“I'm not trying to, though I am trying to find some way to help,” she said, not adding that she needed a way to shut up the connections her mind was making between his behavior and its possible outcomes. “And not because I want something to puzzle over but because I haven't seen you smile since... since you were teasing me about pancakes.”

He shook his head. “That feels like a lifetime ago.”

It almost was, for him, since he'd regained back Ben's memories, which were another life to him even if they _were_ his memories.

“You know what might just be the strangest thing in all of this?” Ellie asked, and he frowned at her. “I have no appetite.”

He laughed.

* * *

Gibbs knew every sound his house made as the night settled in. He knew the way the refrigerator hummed and how the floor creaked, which windows got light from the moon or even passing traffic. Knowing his home well had saved his life more than once, telling him when someone uninvited had come in, registering every little noise that didn't belong to him or the building itself.

This time, of course, the guest was invited, and it would have been easy for anyone to tell that they were there. They might be wondering _why_ they were there, and even Gibbs was questioning his decision after getting woken up in the middle of the night for the third time in a row.

He rose, taking his gun with him. He knew Malloy's screams were about the past, about the horrors Ben witnessed, but he wasn't going to assume that was all it was. Assumptions got people killed, and Gibbs had already made an assumption that cost Ben plenty. He'd never looked beyond the bullies, not even when the kid wouldn't name them, and that—that he still didn't forgive himself for.

He pushed the door open to the guest room, checking it for an outsider. Again, nothing. Malloy had rolled out of bed and was now curled up as small as he could be against it, shuddering, with Bishop having dragged herself to his side of it, trying to reach him.

Gibbs checked the safety and set the gun down before going closer himself. He knelt in front of him, looking him over. Damn. This time he'd managed to hit something on his way out of the bed. “You're bleeding on my floor, Malloy.”

“I'm sorry,” Malloy whispered, sounding much more like his child self rather than the adult. 

“I think he hit the night table,” Bishop said, wincing. “My fault. I touched him when he started screaming, and he jerked away.”

“Ben?” Gibbs asked, and Malloy's eyes met his. “We need to get a look at your head. Can you let me see?”

Malloy took a breath and let it out. He nodded, pushing himself up with the help of the bed.

“Where are you going?”

“Bathroom,” Malloy muttered, stumbling toward the door. Gibbs followed after him, knowing that Bishop would make her way there soon enough. She was still slower moving these days, but she still got up with her husband every time he was like this.

Malloy stopped at the sink, starting the water. He wet a cloth and put it to his head, cleaning the blood off his face. He set it aside, frowning at the mirror.

“Probably needs stitches,” Gibbs said from the doorway.

“No. Not the hospital. Not again.”

Bishop pushed past Gibbs, going to her husband's side. “It's a few stitches. It's not locking you up there forever.”

Malloy leaned over the sink, lowering his head. “I am starting to think that's where this is headed. Barely going through the motions during the day, haunted by dreams at night, not knowing what's real, not sure what I actually remember and what is my brain filling in and making worse...”

“You've haven't had much time to _start_ adjusting to having your memories back,” Bishop said, touching his back and making him jerk again. She winced and withdrew her hand. “It's still early. It will take time.”

“Or I'll go crazy and before that ever happens,” Malloy muttered. He closed his eyes. “I really, really just want this to stop, but that...”

“You haven't even tried talking to a shrink, and I know that some of the preventative medication they tried in the past has other uses for treating depression and you didn't do as well on them, but there are others and we can look into them and—”

“And what happens if I throw myself off a balcony again?” Malloy asked.

Bishop gagged. “When did you do that? I don't—you didn't say that because you were thinking about it at the hospital or at the apartment—”

“Ben did it, right?” Gibbs said. “That's what she told you.” 

Malloy nodded. “Supposedly that's what led them to the idea that repressing everything was best. I don't know if I believe her, but then I also don't—I don't know that I... I can't even...” 

Gibbs didn't figure Malloy would admit to feeling suicidal even if he was. He'd said he wanted it to stop, which was pretty damn close in some ways. None of them were stupid, and whether they wanted to admit it or not, it made sense for Malloy to feel that way. Others did. Gibbs had revenge to guide him after he lost Kelly and Shannon, had focused on the anger, but killing Hernandez wasn't enough. He'd needed NIS back then, still needed NCIS today.

Malloy being suicidal was a problem. Gibbs wasn't the one that people went to for emotional or mental support. That was Abby. Or Ducky. Still, Gibbs would be damned if he let his attempt at fixing the mistakes he'd made when it came to Ben cost Malloy everything.

“Should have Ducky look at it.”

“Gibbs, this _was_ an accident,” Malloy said. “I know I just—I didn't hit my head on purpose. I don't even remember doing it.”

“I didn't say it was.” Gibbs opened the cabinet above the sink. “Does need stitches. Could drag your ass down there now. Letting you see Ducky instead.”

Malloy watched as Gibbs put the box of bandages on the counter. He looked over at him. “Gibbs, I don't...”

Gibbs shook his head. He wasn't answering questions, and he wasn't going to explain anything. This go them through the night. They'd deal with more in the morning. “Don't overthink it, Malloy. You've got enough trouble as it is.”

“Speaking of... I'm not so sure I can put those on,” Bishop said, pointing to the bandages. “I need two hands—two steady hands—and my shoulder is already saying no.”

“It's just a bandage—”

“That's taking the place of stitches,” Gibbs said. “I'll do it.”

Malloy sighed. “I almost wish I could just say I wasn't Ben. That way I wouldn't have—I could just say you didn't have to do this, and you wouldn't, and I wouldn't have to sit and wonder if you were taking care of me like you were because of who I used to be—because I don't know that he actually exists anymore, and it's not right to... to use that kind of emotional manipulation and—”

“Damn it, Malloy. If this was only about Ben, you and I would never have had a conversation beyond the damned diner,” Gibbs said. “If you object again, I'll drag you in for stitches. Your choice.”

* * *

“Yes, I can see already that you need stitches,” Ducky said as soon as the door opened.

“I didn't think you made house calls,” Jakob observed, earning laughter from the others who had joined Ducky on his visit. Though Anthony and Timothy likely could have handled any investigation that might have arisen in Jethro's absence, as they had before, the lads were without purpose and only too eager to join him.

“Not the ones anyone would want, I suppose,” Ducky agreed, stepping into the house when Jakob opened the door the rest of the way. “Would you prefer to do this in private, or is the couch agreeable enough for you?”

The younger man sighed. “I would much rather not have to have stitches at all, but since I seem to need them. Here is fine. The bathroom was crowded enough last night.”

“Ooh, almost sounds kinky,” Anthony said, and Jakob frowned at him. “What? You and Bishop expect us to believe you never fooled around in the bathroom? Please.”

“That was not what this was about, Tony,” Elanor said, coming into the room. She seemed tired, and Ducky would like to look her over as well, since he did not know how attentive Jakob had been to her wounds with so many of his own. “Is that our mail?”

Timothy nodded. “Collected it yesterday, but I didn't make it over last night. Sorry about that.”

“He got sidetracked,” Anthony said, giving the words plenty of innuendo. “I think a certain lady friend of his called on his way out.”

“Tony,” Timothy said, sighing. He shook his head. “This one on top might not be yours. The address was right, but the name isn't.”

Anthony grabbed the envelope from him, reading it over with a grin. “Paul Drake, huh?”

“He could have rented the apartment before Bishop did,” Timothy said, trying to get it back. Ducky shook his head at their antics, forcing his attention back to his patient. Jakob might have been calm for the initial examination, but now he fidgeted, growing more anxious as he waited.

“That's not the name I remember,” Elanor said. “I think the last tenant was a single woman. Denise Candlewood.”

“Got a lot of her mail, did you, Bish?” Anthony asked. “I would think McPop Trivia would suggest her boyfriend next, but considering that this is supposedly from a—”

“Give Bishop the damned envelope,” Jethro said, yanking it from Anthony's hand and passing it over. “What are you doing here, DiNozzo?”

“Ducky was heading to see a patient, and we tagged along.”

Jakob pulled away from Ducky's work, hissing when the thread pulled tight. “You thought this was a crime scene?”

Ducky knew it could have been. Jakob's trauma was extensive and his emotional state delicate, and complications arose from injuries thought safe more often than people knew. Elanor could have gotten an infection or thrown a blood clot.

Elanor distracted everyone from the answer to the question by opening the envelope. She sat down, swallowing as she flipped through them, her eyes taking in each page.

“Something wrong?”

She shook her head. “Not anything we didn't already know. I... Jake... this was from Irene.”

Jakob tried to rise, and had Ducky not been more or less blocking his path, he did believe the other man would have rushed across the room to take the papers from his wife. “She sent the adoption file?”

Elanor nodded. “The whole thing. I know we already knew, but... there's something about seeing it in print like this. I... I don't know that you need to see it. It's...”

“I doubt I do,” Jake said. “Jonathon and Constance Malloy filed for the petition, Francis Wilder opposed it, the Malloys won. The child's name was changed and the file sealed.”

Elanor frowned. “Did your mother tell you that he challenged the adoption?”

“No, but I know my grandfather and he was a bastard,” Jakob answered. “Did it really need that many stitches? Aren't we done now?”

“Last one,” Ducky said, finishing and cutting the thread. “There. I am assured that you did not lose consciousness and do not have a concussion, but I would like to be certain of that.”

“It woke me up, not put me out, and Ellie can tell you I managed to keep her up the rest of the night, too. No danger of me slipping into a coma, even if I did have a concussion.”

Ducky nodded, taking out his pen light anyway.

* * *

Gibbs opened the door, took one look at them, and walked away. Maddie frowned, but Abby just followed him inside, making her way over to where everyone else was. She figured Gibbs wasn't happy about having all of them in his house—normally if they gathered, it was at Ducky's house or Palmer's, but they were all here, now, which was a good thing.

“I came by NCIS to say goodbye,” Maddie said, shutting the door behind them, “but the only one who was there was Abby.”

“Palmer's out for the day,” Abby told Ducky. “Breena and the baby are sick.”

Ducky nodded. “I know. He did say he thought he might be, since his wife was showing symptoms yesterday. I shall manage, I'm sure.”

Maddie fidgeted, adjusting the bag on her shoulder, and then she grimaced, taking it off and pulling out her photo album. Abby frowned. That one was green, and the other one had been black. “I found something I think you should have, Gibbs.”

“Your memory,” Gibbs told her, and she rolled her eyes.

“Ours,” she corrected, flipping open the book and turning to a page near the back. “These two stuck together, and I almost didn't bring this book because I thought it had nothing in it that would help, but then I don't suppose this was about helping.”

She peeled back the paper and passed the photo to Gibbs, who took it and shook his head, a smile warring with the pain in his eyes.

“You remember that day?”

Gibbs nodded, touching his fingers to the faces. “Seems to me, none of you kids could shut up about going to the zoo. Argued most of the way there about what to see. Kelly chose snakes, and you wanted zebras.”

Maddie smiled. “Kelly wanted the zebras, too. She just wanted us to think she wanted snakes because they creeped us both out. I don't remember what Ben wanted to see, but I remember we almost all got distracted by the squirrels in the park where we ate lunch.”

“You two were almost willing to stay watching them for the rest of the afternoon,” Gibbs said. He took the photograph over to Jake, holding it out to him.

Jake took it, swallowing. His hand shook. “I wasn't. I didn't get to see the cats yet.”

“Cat guy, huh?” Tony asked, grinning, and McGee elbowed him. “What? It was Bishop that said his mom was like a cat, not me.”

“What?”

Ellie sighed. “I just said that mama bear didn't quite cover what your mother is like when you or your brother are the least bit threatened, and I said maybe a cat—”

“Wait,” Maddie interrupted. “You just said you weren't—You said you weren't Ben. You just said you were, but then you were talking about his mom, and Hannah wasn't like—”

“I didn't know,” Jake told her. “I still find it very difficult to believe. I have a family. My mother is... well... she's many things, and my father is a business man. My brother is... Well, everyone loves Jono. He's just that kind of a person. I never thought... I just didn't remember, but if you want... my adoption record is right there.”

Maddie didn't move to pick up the papers. “You're really Ben? Our Ben?”

Jake grimaced. “I... not entirely. I don't remember everything. I have had a pretty good life as Jake Malloy. Ben... My mother may be a bit smothering, and she's not Shannon, but I never doubted that she loved me.”

“Even though she lied to you about adopting you?” McGee asked, and Tony probably would have smacked him if they weren't all wondering the same thing. Abby thought adoption was great, that people should do it if they could and weren't doing it for the wrong reason, but then it could be turned into a lie when parents kept that from their children.

“My mother is a complicated woman,” Jake told him. “I guarantee you she sees me as her son, and to her, that wasn't a matter of paperwork. It... It doesn't make it easier, knowing what I know now, but while you never want her as an enemy, she didn't do it maliciously.”

Maddie frowned. “So when you got out of the coma, you didn't remember anything?”

Jake shook his head. “All my memories as Ben end that night. He... The statue hits, and that's it. Just... nothing. I don't know that I will ever get the part back between the coma and when my memories as Jake start. According to my mother, it was... bad.”

“I bet,” Maddie said. She winced. “I had nightmares myself. After you. After Kelly...”

Jake lowered his head. “I'm sorry.”

“It wasn't your fault,” Maddie said, frowning at him. “You still do that, though. Take the blame for everything. When we were kids, it was kind of useful because you would, and Kelly and I could get away with anything, almost, but most of that you weren't even involved in because you were... you were pretty clear on right and wrong.”

“He still is,” Bishop said. “Defining it is kind of his job. Though... I think you have a point with the taking the blame thing. You do do that more than you should, Jake.”

“Ellie, don't. Please.”

Bishop put a hand on his cheek. “We do need to finish that conversation later. I think you may have let me give you too much responsibility for the problems we were having, and that wasn't fair, but it was very you.”

Jake shook his head. “It was my job that was classified—”

“And my decision to switch jobs,” Bishop said, making him stop. He sighed and leaned his head against hers.

“Oh, wow, I didn't even realize it before, but—you two are married,” Maddie said. “I don't... Wow. That I... I mean, I suppose I always knew you probably would when you grew up, but it's so weird... And probably a little embarrassing.”

“What?” Tony said, pouncing on that immediately.

“I used to tease Kelly so much,” Maddie began. “We all kind of did. It... Well, we used to say she'd grow up to marry Ben.”

Jake frowned at her. “No, you didn't. I don't remember that.”

Gibbs smiled a little, amused. “They did. Shannon said it the first time you and Kelly played together. Pissed me off for years.”

“I...” Jake tried to say something, stopped, and shook his head. “I am going to pretend you didn't say that.”

Gibbs shrugged, though Jake wasn't the only one uncomfortable with Maddie's statement. Bishop seemed upset, too, though her grimace could have been pain from being shot. Abby wasn't sure. Even Tony and McGee thought it was odd. Ducky might have been the only one besides Gibbs who found it amusing.

“Oh, crap,” Maddie said, looking down at her watch. “My flight.”

* * *

“Thought we moved the night stand so this wouldn't be an issue again.”

Jake sighed, still trying to rid himself of that last dream and the shakes that came with it. He did look up at Gibbs, trying a weak glare since he wasn't capable of anything else. “The table wasn't the problem last time. The dreams were, and they don't seem to be going away.”

He turned over, needing to look at Ellie again and make sure she was there, even if he was sure he'd woken her again. He couldn't seem to stop that. He was too tired to stay awake, especially if he took any of his medication, but that didn't keep him asleep—didn't let any of them sleep.

“Better check the stitches.”

Jake gave Ellie another glance. If he really hadn't woken her, he would because Gibbs wasn't going to quit before he got what he wanted. He knew that Gibbs had been like that for Ben, always pushing, especially about the stuff Ben didn't want to discuss.

He went into the bathroom, running the water and splashing some on his face with his good hand. He shut it off and wiped off his face, turning to find Gibbs watching him.

“I think we need to find another place to stay. This clearly isn't working.”

Gibbs shook his head. “Don't care if you wake me up, Malloy.”

“If you are going to hover like you did all day today—and I know part of that was because Maddie's visit made things very awkward—then you may as well lock me up and be done with it.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Maybe because I'm broken? Because a person isn't supposed to be two different people, but it feels like I am. Because the dreams won't stop, and I have tried to end it before, and everyone probably figures I'll try again.”

“You might have tried before. Doesn't mean you will now. Doesn't mean you won't.”

Jake wasn't sure it was worth bothering to admit that he'd considered it more than once, that he'd been close with his own IV. “I wasn't able to cope before.”

“That probably had a hell of a lot to do with waking up to strangers.” 

“Maybe,” Jake conceded, since he couldn't be sure what he'd done or why during that time. “They had me forget everything because I couldn't function if I didn't. I want to forget again, but it wouldn't work. Even if I forgot, everyone would still know. None of you would look at me the same.”

Gibbs grunted. “Couldn't blame you for wanting out. Don't. Not going to call you a coward, either. Forgetting worked before. It could still work again, even if we know about everything you want forgotten.”

Jake leaned over the sink. “Gibbs, the things he did—”

“Are what _he_ did,” Gibbs insisted. “He did them, not you. He hurt you, lied to you, and threatened the people you cared about. You think if he'd just said he'd kill you if you told someone, that would have stopped you?”

Jake swallowed, as sick as the words made him, he knew the truth already. “If he'd said he'd kill me, I wouldn't have cared. I didn't want to live. Not when he... He used to tell me that he wouldn't have abandoned me like they did. That if it were him, he wouldn't ever let me go. He said that even before... before Kristin died. I didn't think it would end unless... unless I died.”

“Stone is gone.”

“I _know_ that,” Jake said, shaking his head. “It's not that I'm scared of him coming back again. That... That part of he nightmare at least is over, even if...”

“Even if what?”

Jake shook his head. He didn't want to talk about that, about the way he'd thought that Stone was memorizing him when he touched him. “Bruce killed three people because of me. What if he... What if he hurt others? How am I supposed to live with knowing that?”

Gibbs shook his head. “You aren't responsible for what he did.” 

“I don't know that I can ever believe that,” Jake admitted. Kristin and Bruce might not have been that happy together, not with the sort of man he was, but he wouldn't have had to kill her over that. He'd done it because Ben asked her about what Bruce did to him. Hannah had died trying to protect him. Those deaths happened because of him. “He was... obsessed. I could hear it when he spoke—he wouldn't listen when I said I wasn't Ben—he kept saying I was his, wanted to mark me... but I don't know that the obsession was enough. I don't know that he never hurt anyone else in my place. I got away from him. I was... free of him for over twenty years...”

“You're free now.”

Jake shook his head. “No. I was free because I forgot. Now I remember. I have Ben's memories and mine. It's like... I'm losing my mind. Between the nightmares and the guilt... I don't trust my mind. I don't trust myself.”

“That why you didn't want more than your migraine medication?”

Jake nodded. Just like the IV at the hospital, he knew he could abuse his painkillers all too easily. Ellie had her own, as did Gibbs, and Jake didn't know that the pills not being his would stop him forever, not if he kept feeling like this.

“You want to end your life, that's your choice. Maybe we could stop you, maybe not. You'd be leaving behind a lot of people care about you and who'd blame themselves for not doing more. Doesn't matter if it was your choice. Your pain ends. Theirs doesn't.”

Was Gibbs trying to use emotional blackmail to keep Jake from doing it? Jake didn't know that he could do it to Ellie, but then... he didn't know that he'd be thinking about her if it got to that point.

“I don't know what to do,” Jake admitted. “My head... I don't...”

“Got a bottle of bourbon downstairs.”

Jake almost laughed. “I'm not sure that's all that much better than—”

“Got a boat to build, too.”

Jake looked at him, not sure how to react. A part of him thought that was ridiculous, another part of him wanted to laugh. A part of Ben wanted to hug Gibbs close and not let go, but Jake didn't dare. “I... I remember doing that with you. It... It was... nice.”

“Nice?”

“Bruce was telling me my father was a horrible man who never made time for me. He tried to make himself sound great.” Jake ran his hands over his arms, shivering. Bruce had done a lot of that, saying poisonous things long before anything else happened. “You told me my father wasn't... wasn't the jerk he wanted me to believe he was. You... showed me what a good father was, too, but you never made me feel like Bruce did. You were just there. Without some other motive. You were just... you.”

Gibbs pulled him close. Jake closed his eyes. Though it was different now, he remembered this, too.

* * *

“Wow,” Maddie said. “This brings back memories.”

Ellie smiled. Abby would call it adorable, and it was. Seeing Gibbs and Jake working together on the boat was something she'd never expected to see, but watching them, she could also picture them doing this when Jake was a little boy. Such a sweet, simple moment between father and son—or close enough to it—was worth a picture, at least, but her hands were full, and so were Maddie's.

“I heard that the drink of choice in the basement was bourbon, but I thought maybe coffee was more appropriate,” Ellie said as she came down the stairs. She cradled the pot in her hands, not wanting to drop it before she got to the bottom. She wasn't sure it would be up to Gibbs' standards, but she'd done her best to match what she'd seen in the filter before she threw it out. She knew it would be a bit for Jake, but Maddie said she thought it looked like what Shannon used to make.

“You made coffee?” Gibbs asked, eying her shoulder.

“Not on my own,” Ellie said, a bit annoyed. “And it's not like I won't need to use my arm at some point. Or was it the coffee you objected to? I know it probably won't be what you want—”

“I think you'll like it better than mine,” Maddie said, holding up the cups she'd brought down. “And if you don't, then the rest of us can drink it because I doubt Ben—I mean, Jake—likes it half as strong as you do.”

Gibbs grunted. Ellie carried the pot over to the workbench. Maddie brought the cups, setting them down. Ellie poured the coffee, and Maddie took the cup over to Gibbs. Jake came over and got his own, picking one up and sipping from it with a grimace.

Gibbs took a sip. “Not bad.”

“High praise,” Jake said before taking his own sip. “You don't want to know what he thinks of my sanding technique.”

“I'm sure it's just fine,” Ellie told him. “Our door only started working again because of what you did.”

Jake gave her a slight smile, and she gave into the impulse to kiss his cheek. He blinked, frowning at her. “What... what was that for?”

“Because she loves you?” Maddie suggested, amused. “It's funny. I kind of figured that you would be like that when you were older. You never seemed to realize that Suzy Stephens had the biggest crush on you.”

Jake shook his head. “She did not. She was a spoiled brat who hated everyone. She was awful to you and Kelly.”

“Because she liked you and because she knew that you'd kissed us,” Maddie said, grinning. She looked over at Ellie. “We were playing princess, and Ben was our prince. Very, very reluctantly. I blame Disney movies.”

“They get us all,” Ellie agreed with a smile. She was glad that Maddie had missed her flight. This was something that both Gibbs and Jake needed—reminders of the good times they'd all shared. They were too focused on the pain and guilt. “Though I think the casting was right in one case.”

Jake looked at her. “Ellie, not only do I not have that much money, I think we both agree that our marriage hasn't been a fairy tale. Rocky patches, fights—oh, and the best part, the psychotic killer that shot you.”

Ellie grimaced. He had to stop punishing himself for that. Stone had done it, not him, and he wasn't to blame. She reached up to touch his face. “That was not your fault.”

Jake shook his head. “He did it because of me. He broke my finger when I tried to stop him from taking my wedding ring. He said it was meaningless...”

“It wasn't,” Ellie insisted. She took a breath and let it out, not sure how he'd take what she'd been thinking. She hadn't said it before because she was afraid it was too soon, too much. Still, maybe it was what he needed to hear. “He twisted that and everything else. He wanted you to believe I was dead and it was your fault so he could break you. Only he didn't.”

Jake rolled his eyes at that.

“He picked a stupid way to to do it if you ask me,” Maddie said. She shrugged when they looked at her. “Ben can just put the ring back on his finger, and it wasn't like that man made you get a divorce.”

Jake looked over at Gibbs, but the older man shook his head. Ellie watched both of them with a frown. “What?”

“Didn't find the ring,” Gibbs answered, and Ellie winced.

“Oh,” Maddie said, looking uncomfortable. “I'm sorry. I didn't know.”

Ellie shook her head. She wasn't to blame. “We did keep a lot of the details of the case from you. You wouldn't have known. In fact, I didn't know. I had assumed the ring was gone because his finger was broken.”

Jake sighed. “It... I really don't like talking about it.”

“I know,” Ellie agreed. She bit her lip and then decided to go ahead and do it. A part of her said it should be done in private, but she didn't think the idea stood a chance. Jake wouldn't believe her, with or without an audience. “Let me put it back on your finger.”

“It's missing, Ellie, and I don't—”

“I want to renew our vows.”

“What?”

She nodded. “I've been thinking about it for a while. When we were doing couples classes, we took that cake decorating class, which made me think of our wedding cake. The whole day, actually. We basically eloped, had that small ceremony on my family's farm—”

“That was how we both wanted it,” Jake protested. “Nothing fancy. Nothing overly religious. It always seemed... perfect.”

“It was beautiful,” Ellie said. “I loved it. I still do. I have always had one issue with it, though, and you know what it is.”

He winced. “I know my family wasn't there, but it wasn't that I—”

Ellie put her fingers over his lips. “I know why you didn't want them there. I figured that out a long time ago. It wasn't because you don't love them or because you were somehow ashamed of me. You wanted it to be a good day, and you were already so stressed by it you were sure if your family was there, you would get a migraine that took you down for days.”

“If the wedding happened at all,” Gibbs muttered, and Ellie frowned. He shrugged. “You never asked him how he ended up out of his grandfather's will?”

“Gibbs,” Jake said, giving him a look. 

“You got disinherited for her?” Maddie asked. “I guess you really are a prince, Ben.”

Jake grimaced. “You are not helping.”

“I can't believe you kept that from me,” Ellie said. “I knew there was distance between you and your family, and you were always very stubborn about keeping your finances separate from theirs, never taking any money from them, but you never said—”

“It didn't matter. I never wanted their money. My family is still my family because of the things that had nothing to do with their money, and yes—my grandfather disinherited me, but he never accepted my father so that wasn't a surprise,” Jake told her. He touched her face. “You... You were special. I knew that from the day we met over that form.”

Ellie wondered if Gibbs or Maddie would say she was anything like Kelly, the girl that Ben was supposedly fated to marry. She didn't think she ever wanted to ask, even if she was curious. It would be awkward, but it was still possible that some part of Ben identified with who she was. Or it could just have been Jake.

She didn't care. They were the same person, and he was still coming to terms with that. Still, she knew she didn't want to lose him. Maybe it was too much or too soon or even just an extreme reaction to both of them almost dying, but she knew she wanted this.

“I still think we should do it,” Ellie told him. “Have another ceremony. Not just with my family this time, but with your family and the one we both have at NCIS. That includes Maddie.”

“It's... kind of a big step and not—”

“We wouldn't be doing it this instant. It would take planning—the team would need the day off, we'd have to arrange it so our families could be there, Maddie has her life back in Oakland so she'd need time to make arrangements, and at the very least, your hand needs to heal so I can put the ring there again.”

“I don't even know why you'd want to—”

“I don't love you any less because of who you used to be,” Ellie insisted. “From what I hear, you were just as adorable a child then as you were in your mom's stories. Maybe even a little more. And I can see parts of Ben in who you are now. Those parts are still you and still good.”

Jake shook his head. “I know that when I wake up, I always have to check and see if you're alive, have to check more than once, but I don't want you to do this out of obligation or—”

“Don't be an idiot, Malloy.”

Ellie winced. She should have done this in private after all. She didn't want anyone forcing Jake to make any kind of decision. “Just... think about it. Please.”

Jake wrapped his arms around her. “You're crazy. You know that, right? Having all of our family in one place? That's going to end very badly.”

She laughed. “You and Gibbs might just have to finish that boat.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot I had a note to add at the end. I'm not sure if it's important or not, but I still felt like it should be said.
> 
> When I started working on the idea of Strange Connections, I knew that Jake resembling Ben was a huge part of it. I also knew as soon as I mentioned Bruce that he had killed Kristin and Hannah. I wasn't sure why or why Ben knew about it. I went back and forth over Jake and Ben being the same person, since the story could have gone either way. In the end, it seemed like Jake being Ben was the better way to go, but then it was also not once I understood Bruce's motivations. I'm not sure it was the best way, though when I think about where Ben would be if he wasn't Jake, I kind of see him either not making it or being in a very bad place. So in some ways, it was better. And yet worse. I'm still not sure about my decision, but I went forward and finished it, and now I get to try and rebuild myself some before trying to rebuild Jake and everyone else from this story.


End file.
